” She looked around the apartment again. . 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. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. ‘That way. All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course.
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