” She wondered how much history she could reinvent before losing track of her own lies. 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 aught I know, they may be in the neighbourhood at this moment. Tell me why you ran away from the convent. I'm sure he'll do his best to content you.
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