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. She acted as her mother had taught her to. "Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. From then on he was Ruth's dog. Places, I found, were daily given away, And yet no friendly gazette mentioned Gay. I had already won wars and sailed ships to distant lands by the time I was thirty. .
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