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. He uttered a short laugh. She hoped that Shari would not be too brokenhearted about her disappearance. She doesn't understand; she believes he has taken a sudden dislike to her. But what a monster was this Emile. "Your sympathy is being wasted. "Where am I?" asked Spurlock.
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