“I may go to Hatton House later, but you needn’t wait. She was alarmed at how little her husband Gianfrancesco packed for the trip, leaving behind his best scarlet and black lucco, which he wore for every business and political meeting. 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. But in that reservation it may be she went a little beyond the converse of his view. This man has an evil reputation. Now how in the world was he to get rid of the husband? His luck was in. " "You did not hear her when she spoke to her father; I did.
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