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. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,—I'd never betray him. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. . “One doesn’t wait,” said Ann Veronica. " "Have you told him so?" she inquired, reproachfully. ” “But why didn’t you prohibit once for all the whole thing? How dared she tell you that?” “Out of defiance. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night.
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