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. ’ Gerald smiled. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. “At the Tredgold Women’s College,” said Ann Veronica.
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