For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face. 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. “She means to go. ‘Eh bien?’ ‘You are perfectly right, Melusine. Glancing towards him she saw that a shadow had fallen upon his face. "I am Owen Wood, at your service.
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