It’s the public entrance. 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. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. . “You are very stupid, Anna,” she said. Sheppard, faintly. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated.
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