The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. I’ve got to have you, and by God I will. CHAPTER XIII. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. 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.
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