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. I admired your chivalry. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. Never had her father explained. Her face expressed nothing. Spurling and Marvel. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. The poor boy, wanting his empty coat! The incident, however, caused her to review the recent events. At one time, she determined to go to Wych Street, and ask Mr.
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