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. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. Spare me, and I'll be quiet—quiet —quiet!" "Mother!" said Jack, advancing towards her. Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt.
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