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. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born. I am too weak to aid you. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering.
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