There is only Gerald to see me, after all. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. No sooner did the vehicle turn the corner of this yard, than Quilt became aware, from the tumultuous sounds that reached his ears, as well as from the flashing of various lanterns at the door of the round-house, that some disturbance was going on; and, apprehensive of a rescue, if he drew up in the midst of the mob, he thought it prudent to come to a halt.
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