" "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. Hill was seated. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. 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. "We have him!" cried Jonathan, hurrying down the steps. Wood?" "With pleasure," replied the woollen-draper.
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