Miss Klegg and the youngest girl made a vigorous attack on Miss Garvice, who had said she thought women lost something infinitely precious by mingling in the conflicts of life. 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. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone. Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was continually attracting. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. “Absolutely platonically,” she said. A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head.
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