Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. " Jonathan gave utterance to a torrent of imprecations. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. Let him have his honeymoon. 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. Were I to let you go, you'd say I feared you.
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