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"It is your son. 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. Prudence shook her head. "How have you contrived to still these troubled waters?" "I've chanced upon an old ally in the Master of the Mint," answered Rowland. Another instance was that of Toby Tanner—" "No more of this," interrupted Trenchard; "where is the boy?" "Not far hence," replied Wild. She was suddenly grave. The other lay unconscious in a heap. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression.
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