Drink for him had a queer phase. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. 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. He would stare at her intensely when he was certain his parents were not looking in his direction. “Never heard anything of it. " At this juncture, the door opened, and Thames entered the room.
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