He was unable to possess Lucy's hand as he had in the cinema, separated by the annoying chasm between the van's plush seats. Unless—would he hide from them as he had hidden from her? It was a big house, he said. 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. F.
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