Her heart swelled to suffocation. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue. 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. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten. “We will take it then,” he said, “that you have refused or ignored one request I have made you this morning.
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