The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. . He was struck disagreeably by Ramage’s air of gallant consideration and Ann Veronica’s self-possessed answers. ” “I don’t see why I shouldn’t. B. 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. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed.
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