A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. I shouldn't care to express an opinion. Yes, I can readily believe it. But his eyes were on the Frenchman, and as Valade moved up the other road a little way, the lad shifted alertly, and swiftly closed the distance to the intersection. It was an uproarious affair, for Rollo now knew that he had been grieviously betrayed: they were trying to kill him in a new way.
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