He embraced her like her father once had. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing. 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. ’ He sighed. In the struggle her cap fell off.
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