“He and I don’t seem to get on at all with our fellow-guests, as Mrs. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. 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. ‘Give me an opportunity to open my mouth, and I will.
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