Deny me, if you please. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. ‘Why do you think I want a man ready to run to me with every move she makes?’ countered Gerald. She drove me. Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. By this time, Jack's reputation had risen to such a height with the populace,—his exploits having become the universal theme of discourse, that the streets were almost impassable for the crowds collected to obtain a view of him.
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