‘Pray do not trouble yourself, Saling. Sir Rowland waved his hand, and the attendant withdrew. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. “But you must forgive me, John. 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. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. There was a maiden aunt who lived in the North who might let her live there for a few weeks until she disappeared. These thoughts, however, came to a broken end. Sheppard looked round, and exchanged kindly glances with several of those who addressed him.
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