He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. " "You would purchase it at the price of your head," replied Jonathan, knitting his brows. . “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. She was shifting, moving back. 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.
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