I mean Miss Charvill no harm. 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. “Do you know that boy very well, Shar?” Cathy Beck yelled in the general direction of the lavatory. And, what's more, I tell you, if Captain Sheppard is hanged, you need never hope to call me Mrs.
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