Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. She then opened Lucy’s meager closet and plucked out a pair of heeled boots usually reserved for weddings and funerals. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. 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. “To the best of my belief,” she said, with quiet dignity, “I have never seen either of you before in my life. ’ Looking round, she found the little coterie of soldiers crowded into the passage behind them.
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