She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. “I am sorry,” he said slowly. 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. " "What has he done?" "What did he have to drink over here last night?" "Not even water. More than ever Sir John was glad that he had sat down. Thank goodness there’s plenty of opportunity! And we two can talk.
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