She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. “Where are we going?” Lucy asked desperately as Michelle began to twitch with greater frequency. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees.
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