He grew even harder. "If you don't stop its squalling, I will. 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. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. Diedermeyer, sweetheart? He just went in. In seconds, they faced each other before the altar.
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