’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. 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. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. “But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty. "Read that.
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