She took it for granted Ann Veronica wore stays—mild stays, perhaps, but stays, and thought no more of the matter. 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. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture.
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