In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. Gay. 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. There were no mourners. “But, forgive me, you are tired. \" Said John as he piled the papery remnants of their meal onto the tray. " There was no danger in admitting this fact.
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