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 decided that she would try to push whatever resolve he had in the car to see where it would lead. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. “Very funny. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle.
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