It was a habit of his to talk to himself. There were electric and ice plants, and a great store in which one could buy anything from jewsharps to gas-engines. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. “No. 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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