They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. The boy was all conscience, and he suffered through this conscience to such lengths that the law would be impotent to add anything. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. “Thousands! Ugh! And found it a worse slavery. I don’t know why that should be so acutely humiliating. 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.
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