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. “He produced what he called a marriage certificate, and I believe that nearly every one in the boarding-house, including Mrs. Saviour's Stairs. She smiled at the sight of him, and thereat his radiation increased. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake.
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