of like, one seventy-five or something?” She looked at Michelle with worry. ’ She sighed. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. 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. . ‘You mean—’ ‘Hilary!’ Lucy turned excited eyes back to Alderley.
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