“We are clerks in the same bank. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. "Good-bye, young man; and good luck. 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. "The lash cuts to the bone.
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