Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. ‘Ah, the tragedy. 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. He made it impossible not to respond, his arms tightening deliciously around hers. " "Is this your notable scheme!" asked the knight, scornfully. They conversed, or more or less she interviewed him. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. Look in the small hide-bound book that he keeps in his boot. “A wonderful piece of work,” he declared.
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