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. He saw Enschede, making the empty sea, alone, alone, forever alone. Spurling and Marvel rose too. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. That's my maxim; and it's the maxim of every honest man.
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