T’weren’t fitting, we knew that. "This your regular business?" "For the present. 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. " "On the contrary, if that is a specimen, they must be poets. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. “Have to go now.
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