. "Anything else?" "Your waistcoat. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. ‘Must be still downstairs. 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. It was just a shabby, stupid, furtive business that began between us.
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