” “Surely,” he protested, “the change is all in favour of your own inclinations. 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. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. For a time I didn't know we'd ever find you. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. "You have betrayed me," said he, in a deep whisper, to his companion; "but you shall reap the reward of your treachery.
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