“With me I believe that it is more. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. "That's a fine tale," said Spurlock. 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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