Gora fully expected to lose the house she sat on, and had packed what few
valuables she possessed in two large bags: the fine underclothes she had
made at odd moments, and a handsome set of toilet articles her brother had
given her on the Christmas before last. He had had a raise of salary and
her experiment with lodgers had proved even more successful than she had
dared to hope. On the following Christmas he had given her a large book
with a fancy binding (which she had exchanged for something she could
read). After satisfying the requirements of a wardrobe suitable for the
world of fashion, supplemented by the usual toll of flowers and bon-bons,
he had little surplus for domestic presents.
Gora's craving for drama was far deeper and more significant than young
Alexina Groome's, and she determined to watch until the last moment the
terrific spectacle of the burning city. The wind had carried the smoke
upward for a mile or more and pillars of fire supported it at such
irregular intervals that it looked like a vast infernal temple in which
demons were waging war, and undermining the roof in their senseless fury.
In some places whole blocks of houses were blazing; here and there high
buildings burned in solitary grandeur, the flames leaping from every window
or boiling from the roof. Sometimes one of these buildings would disappear
in a shower of sparks and an awful roar, or a row of humbler houses was
lifted bodily from the ground to burst into a thousand particles of flying
wood, and disappear.
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