‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly. Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand. 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. He swore when I tried to get it out with the ladle, and told me what it said. There used to be an after deckhouse and a shallow well for the wheel; but I changed that.
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