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“I thought you weren’t getting along so well with your mother these days. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. “Nothing has happened to Mr. Come with me, Langley, and bring the lantern. "That depends upon you. 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.
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