" "Not in the least, Sir," replied Tom, in a drowsy tone, and with a look seeming to imply that he was too much accustomed to odd noises at night to heed them. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. He returned, sitting on the floor beside the couch adoring her and stroking her bare arms. After all there are other things. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. 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.
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