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. So was I, in fact. He spoke in quick nervous sentences. One puts gloves on one’s greedy fingers. I give you the plain, unadulterated truth. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. . They happen to a man. Take my advice.
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