I put my foot down like—like adamant. 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. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. “No, no,” she cried. "If you talk as long as an Old Bailey counsel, you'll not alter my determination. ’ ‘Married?’ ‘I did mention Madame Valade, did I not?’ At that, a growl of startling ferocity escaped her lips. She gloried in it: he needed her.
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