“Oh, there’s no doubt of it! Since the girls of the eighties broke bounds and sailed away on bicycles—my young days go back to the very beginnings of that —it’s been one triumphant relaxation. "I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. 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. “What happened to your parents, Lucy? Is it all right if I ask?” Lucy looked at her with a soft gaze. Sheppard, with a deep sigh, perceiving that her benefactor hesitated to pronounce the word. He was not used to not getting his way.
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