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“Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. That was the inconvenience of it; her head was swimming. 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. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. “Get you a cold one?” “No thanks. You speak as one injured—as though I had been the one to take your name—as though you had been the one to make sacrifices. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you.
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