Spurlock stepped into the room. 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. Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin.
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