’ ‘What, Madame Valade?’ demanded Gerald. " "Come along, then. 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 don’t think she will,” she said. ‘Well, sir, if I’ve to choose betwixt him and you, I’ll take you, no question.
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