They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. 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. “Slavery! Downtroddenness! When I think of it I feel all over boot marks— men’s boots. "I wanted you to know.
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