. 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. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. So that as she saw him she remarked to herself very faintly but definitely, “Oh, golly!” and set up a campaign of avoidance that Mr. "I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. Were I to let you go, you'd say I feared you. "I feel like work," he lied.
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