" At luncheon, preoccupied in thought, Spurlock did not notice the pallor on Ruth's cheeks or the hunted look in her eyes. 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'll be brought out at this door, and may probably make some resistance. He was now within a foot of the bar, and introducing himself into the hole, speedily worked his way to it. The thought had not even occurred to him. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. We're two good-looking fellows, ain't we?" "Very good-looking," replied Rachel. Next moment, he had Melusine by the arm.
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