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. “It’s not for us to supplicate any more. "I don't know," she answered vaguely. "What has delayed you?" demanded the knight impatiently. ” Lucy snickered. “I would rather put up with your own efforts, however clumsy.
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