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 shall want nothing more. I saw the motor dashed to pieces against the wall, and I saw him pitched on his head into the road. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table.
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