” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. “I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter. He stood away from her.
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