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. Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. ’ ‘But, Hilary—’ ‘Don’t you begin, Lucilla, for I won’t stand for it. If he wished, he could even take this inheritance from her. I can keep you.
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