She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. 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. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him.
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