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. “I have the right of the man who loves you,” he declared. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. ” Lucy appeared and appraised him briefly, nonchalantly. She rapped on Michelle’s door loudly.
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