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 ran back to his car, glancing only once at the man in the car. When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. ” “I was turned shortly after the Pestilence, the plague that they call the Black Death. And listen, John.
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