"Do not steel your heart against him, dear Thames," interposed Winifred. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles.
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