The little room was fragrant with flowers, Anna herself bright, and with all the evidences of well being. “Great, Cathy. Anna, who had thrown aside her sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade. I had not been near the Royal Society since—since you disgraced me. If Miss Charvill should take it into her head to dash off on some foolish errand, go with her by all means. 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.
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