The guards, horse and foot, and constables formed a wide circle round it to keep off the mob. 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 silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands.
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