Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. 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 her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. White calls them. Dear me, what a difference it has made! No one would ever think that we were sisters. . It was horrible, but she must do it.
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