” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. . The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. What was the fellow doing in this part of the town? Had not Lady Bicknacre said he was living at Paddington? The Frenchman, booted and neat in buckskin breeches and a plain frockcoat, a flat-brimmed hat on his head, paused a moment at an intersection with one of the roads leading north, apparently seeking a street sign.
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