Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. " "No. You’ve placed me in a very exceptional position, Miss Stanley. 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. “Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her.
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