The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. 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. But it was otherwise with the carpenter. White caught her eye, and smiled benignly down the table. On that basis alone, he had no right to give or accept love.
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