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. "You do love me?" "God knows how much!" Suddenly he laid his head on her shoulder. It was empty. ’ ‘Leonardo again,’ Gerald muttered and, to her disappointment, dropped her hand. Both of them would be committing novel and unforgettable acts.
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