This done, Edgeworth Bess, who watched her opportunity, slipped out of the Lodge. It is in the lower cupboard. For she knew that men married to get something. 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. Ramage admitted the force of that. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him.
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