‘I am nine-and-twenty,’ he answered. The carte de jour was before Monsieur. I shouldn't care to express an opinion. 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. ‘Precisely. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. In the recess beside the fireplace were some open bookshelves.
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