9. In the struggle, Mrs. . What a frightened fool he was! If he could not remember her name, it was equally possible that already she had forgotten his. Part of her felt like laughing insanely at how badly she had been duped. I suppose I ought to have been a man. 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. “If I do,” he said.
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