Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. 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. ’ ‘Gad, but she’s a beauty,’ gasped Hilary, and slammed his sword back in its scabbard.
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