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. ‘I only wish I might have won her confidence. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. ‘Come, I am concerned merely for your safety, you know. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. “Anna of course would not accept any money from us,” she continued.
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