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. ’ ‘Indeed?’ said Gerald, surprised. ’ ‘What? But—’ ‘Precisely, Hilary. Now, will you do me the honour of lunching with me, Miss Pellissier?” Anna hesitated. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. Maggot, eyeing him from head to heel with evident satisfaction;—"a devilish pretty fellow!" "Upon my word, Poll," said Kneebone, becoming very red, "you might have a little more delicacy than to tell him so before my face. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. He shrieked with agony, and clung with desperate tenacity to the roughened stones.
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