. He dressed rather after the fashion of the West End than the City, and affected a cultured urbanity that somehow disconcerted and always annoyed Ann Veronica’s father extremely. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. She looked at Lucy guiltily, wondering if she would be betrayed. 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. Kneebone's door, you begged me to await your return here, assuring me you would not detain me five minutes. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke.
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