But when he looked again, there she was! "I don't understand," he said, finally. 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. “Dear John,” she whispered. The shock and distress were genuine. At length he proceeded toward McClintock's bungalow, drawn by the lights and the sound of music.
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