“Dear me!” he said. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. A day will come when you will thank me. He did not have to. 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. At length, she suddenly started to her feet; and before Winifred could prevent her, staggered up to Thames.
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