Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. 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. You will leave me utterly distraught. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. "It is the voice of inspiration," said Thames; "and I receive it as a solemn command. Some day, when the rewards of literature permit the arduous research required, the Campaign of the Women will find its Carlyle, and the particulars of that marvellous series of exploits by which Miss Brett and her colleagues nagged the whole Western world into the discussion of women’s position become the material for the most delightful and amazing descriptions. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. She found herself struggling with a storm of tears. "One motive alone shall induce me to go on with you," said Jack. She confided in me yesterday.
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