His tone was rough, almost threatening. “The wrappered life-discipline! One comes to that at last. "He has robbed him. She moved a little nearer to him. “Of course it is okay!” Cathy’s voice rose in volume and in pitch. 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 can go for a walk with Lucy. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her.
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