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She helped him take it off. 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. After all, she only LOOKED a woman. She stared at his pleading face. Lest the carpenter should be taxed with too much uxoriousness, it behoves us to ascertain whether the personal attractions of his helpmate would, in any degree, justify the devotion he displayed. “It’s my fault. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence.
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