The hangman is always an object of peculiar detestation to the mob, a tremendous hooting hailed his appearance, and both staves and swords were required to preserve order. " "Think not to delude me, audacious wretch," cried the carpenter. Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him. He's a hundred miles sou'-east of me. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. He is at present with Mr.
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