” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. ‘You see, it’s difficult to do a service for someone when you don’t know who they are, or what they’re up to. There was a lot of that, John, a great deal of hunger. The horns were the worst, slipping in and out of tune and rushing the easy sections, fighting everyone else. 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. ‘Certainly you may have me under guard. “It’s magnificent!” He leaned back and regarded her with his head a little on one side.
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