“I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. " At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. I came to beg you instead to do me the honour of becoming my wife. 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. Gerald’s chest tightened.
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