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. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. Michelle looked at her pathetically.
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