She was always initiating petty breaches of discipline. “I think I ought to have one. "Mrs. I didn’t go out of my way or anything. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. The discussion wandered, and was punctuated with bread and butter. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. 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. Naturally you shout yourself hoarse when she has finished, and feel jolly pleased with yourself. For a time they were very difficult. It isn’t the same thing. He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face.
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