” The man’s face was dark with passion. I would have liked to know. Ramage,” she cried, “you are outrageous! You understand nothing. As the wedding neared, she bought some finer things: a veal roast for supper, a single pearl for the dowry. 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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