Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. Only a book detective could dope this out. He was nearly wincing. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem. Do you have a car?” She asked. 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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