” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. 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 she made no answer. They sat in the front row. Do anything to please you, Vee. I—In fact, I dislike him extremely.
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