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. But I trusted to that ring of yours. He had quite enough to see to and worry about in the City without their doing things. ‘Why have you come in here?’ demanded Melusine, turning on him. ’ ‘Grateful? Certainly I am grateful,’ Melusine snapped, knowing full well she sounded anything but gratified.
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