He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. Wood," urged Jack. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. “YOU had to come in. I can’t stand it.
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