"My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. 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. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. See what your misconduct has deprived you of —see what you might have been. As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection. " "Let them attempt it, if they dare!" cried Mrs.
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