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 eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. Don't you understand? Back among your own again, and only a few of us the wiser.
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