"Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. Spurling. 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 that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. She had turned round sideways, so as to look down into the fire. . I'm neither an infidel nor an agnostic, so I'll content myself by saying that the hand of God is in this somewhere.
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