"I wouldn't give a betel-nut for a man who wouldn't stick to his guns, if he believed himself in the right. Try and consider me your elder brother, or an old family friend, whichever you like best. And shall their wretched offspring live to blight my hopes, and blast my fame? Never!" And, with these words, he grasped Wood by the throat, and, despite his resistance, dragged him to the very verge of the platform. 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 could not help thinking of Capes.
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