Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. 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. ” He whispered back as he pulled her pants and underwear off of her trembling legs. For that matter, my future be damned.
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