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. A shy virgin bride would not press her thigh sinuously against his, nor consent indeed to this clandestine little comedy he had been playing. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. 1. And to think that man got it all out of the poorest little love-story for a respectable titled lady! Have you read of it?” “Never.
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