She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. I MUST. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. 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. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed.
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