. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. " "How so?" inquired Winifred. 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. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. They simply understood there was a greater need to get over the past than to talk about it. ‘Gérard will think that I have gone back to London.
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