There were three exit doors. 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. " "Add that to what she is now suffering? It's too late. “Don’t worry, Julian. And taking the keys, he departed on the errand.
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