The executioner shook his head. " So saying, he sprang, with a bound like that of a tiger-cat, against the throat of the woollen-draper. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. Get it off your soul. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. I don’t think you understand.
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