“I have never yet met a man whose intellect I could respect. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. Unless we can get some optimism into him, he'll probably start this all over again when he gets on his feet. I know how bad it feels. 9. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard.
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