Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. . Please don’t tell anyone, mister. ’ It was a wait of several minutes while Melusine chafed. But there was no sign from her. But the aunt seized her in her arms and rocked with her. 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. But what did he know beyond these facts? Nothing, clearly.
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