For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. “I want to be your friend,” he said. 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. She remembered possessing it during the Gold Rush. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above.
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