“You won’t give me away, Anna. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. I'd like to be alone now. “You will come back, won’t you?” He nodded cheerfully. 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’m not nearly so sure as you. “Well, no,” she answered. .
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