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. For if the likeness between the sisters was remarkable, the likeness between this girl and the poster which he had come from studying was more remarkable still. The stench is everywhere. "Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. “We don’t let to ladies,” they said. ‘Come on.
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