“Yes. 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. Lucy stared like an automaton at Michelle’s unconscious 262 body, revolted at her own actions to the point of shock. Only I’m so incensed with that crazy fool Gerald that—oh, well, never mind. “I had a visit from Sir John in my rooms,” she said.
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