Let him have his honeymoon. Still, the respite was sufficient for Spurlock to look about for some weapon. ‘Ah. "As I could wish!" cried Jonathan. 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.
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