Just let him down easy, Lucy. 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. Martin's Le Grand. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them. Anna was no favourite at No.
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