Mike was drinking a cup of black coffee. 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. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. ‘The truth is, Everett,’ she said brightly, limping up to the general and tucking a hand in his arm, ‘that the girl is you all over again. "I am too much honoured—too happy in the union. . That’s Italians for you. " "'Bloody and deceitful men shall not live half their days'," said Wood, reading aloud another passage. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. I have counted you, and always hoped to count you, the best of my friends. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass.
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