‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. The children made us slaves, and the men took advantage of it. ” There was a shout of laughter. 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. His sister followed.
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