Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. 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. Ruth could not be told now. This incredible scene robbed him of the sense of locomotion. Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. 266 She peered up at him.
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