Not a word passed between them. 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. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself. ” To which the only possible reply seemed to be, “I’m not coming home. "I was not aware it was in danger," rejoined Darrell. What had been happening all this time? ‘Do you tell me he has not again left his apartment?’ ‘Only to go to some party or other Monday night,’ Kimble said.
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