“Hainault, Celeste’s friend. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong 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. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. On the present occasion, in anticipation of Mr. Help! help!" But her cries were unheeded.
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