That was what she was trying to make him understand. He smothered a laugh. As soon as he finished a sheet, he tossed it aside and began another. 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. I met a Hindu a few weeks ago who was a Harvard man.
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