She heard him crash against it, and turned the key in the lock. He looked at her with a certain curiosity. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. Will you come sensibly, or shall I carry you? You are mine!" Ruth's peculiar education had not vitiated the primitive senses; they were always on guard; and in a moment such as this they rushed instantly to the surface. She snapped out of her blissful state and looked at him squarely in the eyes. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. And yet he knew clearly and definitely what he purposed to do, what the future would be. \"No, what?\" She said. \"What's in there?\" Lucy asked. She shook her head. 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 birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service.
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