A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. 9. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden.
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