“I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said. And what's more, I promise to abide by his decision. A creeping numbness invaded her. The order was promptly obeyed, and the horses proceeded at a furious pace along the Edgeware Road. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. 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. “Now here hath been dawning another blue day; I’m just a poor woman, please take it away.
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