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. ’ She sighed. Her mouth dry, she made her feet walk on, not daring to utter a word. Either ignorant of the accident, or heedless of it, the foremost horseman pursued his way without even turning his head.
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