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. "That's for Winifred," vociferated the Amazon, bringing the cudgel heavily upon his shoulder. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute.
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