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. Wood, popping her head
through the window. Yet he was in a state of
hopeless bewilderment. "Let it pass. Nothing to do; nothing for the
hands, the mind, the heart. Get nothing out of me. Unless he deserts the girl, he won't be so hard to find as
formerly. He—he has rather a poor opinion of his contemporaries. A lot of girls have had it in
for him but he must be picky or something because he
didn’t go to Junior Prom even though I know he got
asked. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!”
She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had
savored the words. “But why, Lucy? Who is it
145
that you are trying to hide from? John?”
Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. Arrived within a short distance of his
destination, he came to a halt, and pointing out a dark court nearly opposite the
woollen-draper's abode, told the chairmen to wait there till they were summoned. Section
2. Bird,
the turner, to give him an order this evening.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 06-07-2024 07:07:53