Bête, she told herself fiercely. My engagement at the ‘Garrick’ terminates Saturday week, and then I am free. Half after six. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. Now, I'll be getting along. 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.
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