She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. “You haven’t come here to make a lot of difficulties?” she asked. 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. " "I should like to satisfy myself on that score," rejoined Wild, drily. . "Sir Rowland must be gone. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table. They rose as she approached.
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