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. She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. Now let us forget it. . Why had he glanced up—quite in that way?. Three times she escaped. " "How!" ejaculated Trenchard, starting back and drawing his sword. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg.
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