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. " "Faix, then we'll do it in style," cried the fellow. That is all I ask. “I don’t see that his being a good sort matters. " "What for? What do you want of them?" "Why, they are … yours.
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