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. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. The Night-Cellar XVIII. Shari laughed hysterically and was promptly shushed by Larry from the next room.
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