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. Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. ” “I suppose I must have thought so. He knew she had been weeping.
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