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. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. “We don’t pretend. ’ ‘Ha! You’re Catholic, too, damn his eyes,’ growled the general. We are nuns. Wood's present position, and subsequent proceedings fully intelligible, it may be necessary to give some notion of the shape and structure of the platform on which he had taken refuge. “But your sister?” he asked. ” “Then, whoever he may be, he is not Meysey Hill,” Courtlaw said. Her whole face stiffened with suppressed anger.
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