Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. 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. Once before—but that had been different. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. ‘Sapristi,’ he shouted angrily. It does not matter to him either way. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave.
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