He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. “It is a delightful day for walking, but a great deal too cold to be standing on the pavement. I did not know how he would act if I obstructed him. 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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