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. ‘What are you going to do now, child?’ Melusine sighed away the last of her distress. “Will he die?” she asked. "But, I half suspect, of your father. ’ ‘Quite right, Gerald,’ approved Lucilla.
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