The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. 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. As soon as he was certain he should be disturbed no more, Jack set to work, and with the aid of the file in less than an hour had freed himself from his fetters. "I forgot. She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. I wonder how it is,” she added, “that boys always make love so impertinently. How much Mary knew is a mystery.
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