’ Triumph leapt in Gerald’s chest. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. And it had not shocked her! It was this appalling absence of indignation that had put terror into her heart. 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. A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued.
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