‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. I don’t care WHAT happens. 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. The latter seemed inclined to advance and address the former; but suddenly changing his mind, he shouted to his companion in tones familiar to the stranger's ear; and, striking spurs into his steed, dashed off at full speed along the Edgeware Road. "I am sorry. Yours?" The stranger hesitated. People, nobody, can do as they like in this world.
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