Wood a very free-and-easy sort of stare, winked at Mr. 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 could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. " "Who is he?" asked Thames impatiently. I've an idea it'll be that long before the chap gets up. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. ‘It were that there major, miss. I forget.
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