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. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. Let us walk about.
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