"How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. It is not at all comme il faut. “If I was the world I think I should have put down a crimson carpet, and asked you to say what you wanted, and generally walk over me. 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. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. "But your threats won't prevent my leaving the room when I please, and as I please. “You must not.
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