Spurlock looked up. May I ask the nature of your interest in her?” He hesitated. “You must play for us again sometime. 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. "You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm.
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