” She replied informally. An uncomfortable silence followed. 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. “A sex of blacklegging clients. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. The country was partitioned in a similar manner. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed.
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