What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. Indeed, she did not want to think of him as loving her. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. They took their places at a distant table. 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. He fended these things off from him with the rump of his fourth piece of cake. " "I can avenge her," cried Jack in a terrible tone.
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