Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. 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. ‘Which is why I feel sure he will utterly repulse the girl, even if she is his granddaughter. Let me engage myself. I must say what I have to say!” “But not now—not here. From one window the beach was always visible; from another, the stores. If the boy was legging it alone…. It’s for you to say if I may sit on it.
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