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He relapsed into silence, with his chin now sunken almost to his
knees.
Presently he began waving his hand.
"All the work--all the Sunday schools--What have we done--what has
Weybridge done? Everything gone--everything destroyed. The church!
We rebuilt it only three years ago. Gone! Swept out of existence!
Why?"
Another pause, and he broke out again like one demented.
"
The smoke of her burning goeth up for ever and ever!" he shouted.
His eyes flamed, and he pointed a lean finger in the direction of
Weybridge.
By this time I was beginning to take his measure. The tremendous
tragedy in which he had been involved--it was evident he was a
fugitive from Weybridge--had driven him to the very verge of his
reason.
"Are we far from Sunbury?" I said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
"
What are we to do?" he asked. "Are these creatures everywhere?
Has the earth been given over to them?"
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