"Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. 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. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. She was looking about her, and her face was dark with anger. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached.
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