He became ugly and monstrous, dunning her, threatening her, assailing her. Look at the poor victim at your feet. “I’ll have to pay it. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. 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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