” “I know—” said Ramage, with sympathy. His kisses drew deeper, he started unlacing her dress. 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. But Melusine was a little inclined to like this side of the major.
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