Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. ’ He made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there. 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. " "Never count your chickens till they're hatched," observed Mrs. ’ Gerald eyed her. \" \"Okay.
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