They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. ‘I do not mind to pray, no. 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. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. Dolls.
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