” He said. “You’ll get me to allude to it, but you’d have to torture me to admit it. Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. 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 am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at the window.
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