They were the three most beautiful women I had ever seen. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. 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 voice recalled him. She had told him, point blank, that since the Church had neither annulled the first marriage nor sanctified the second one, she was not his wife.
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