Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. 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. “Have you any money?” “Lots,” Anna answered laconically. “I do want you. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her.
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