Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. What is it you’re after? Money, I suppose. 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. "As I said before, I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. " A deep indignant groan followed.
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