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. “You!” said Ann Veronica. . “Limp,” he answered. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation.
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