Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. ’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light. He pulled on her shoulder, bringing her mouth to his in a kiss. 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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