With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. Lucy's grin faded. “Is Miss Stanley coming up with us?” “I go second,” she said, “and change at Wimbledon. 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. Wild, Captain?" remonstrated the other, in a deferential tone.
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