Mike chimed in. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. 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. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness.
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