" After all those former bitter failures, this cup was sweet, even if there was the flavour of irony. Sebastian, as doctor, was constantly around the sick and the dying. 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 scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. She kicked him in the shin, trying to knock him off his feet.
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