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. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again. Give me your staff. behind the Laundromat. And when, at length, it was struck, he wanted energy to pursue his advantages. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own.
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