She heard him come in; the light burned on. ” Ann Veronica read this letter through with grave, attentive eyes. . 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 was a simple wish. You poor man, what have you been doing to yourself?” “Nothing except travelling all night,” he answered. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. "He is," returned Quilt, significantly.
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