” Brendon leaned over confidentially. 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. I want to do something. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. Fortescue, with a bow. Gerald sighed.
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