You notice that I have recently spent ten francs on a box of the best Russian cigarettes, and that there are roses upon my table. In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man. 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 ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it.
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