He had been on the point of leaving the restaurant. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. 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. Lucy entered the room. Mike was drinking a cup of black coffee.
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