"Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. "He had been many years in this country before his assassination took place. Baffled in their attempt, the mob uttered a roar, such as only a thousand angry voices can utter, and discharged a volley of missiles at the soldiery. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. ’ ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ Gerald uttered in a rueful tone.
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