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. To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. He saw her eyes pass him and settle on a fleetingly pretty strawberry blond girl and her effeminate father.
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