After dinner Ann Veronica went into the
drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe
and pensive petrography. It was precious for two
reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not
remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. "If I had my old tools with me, we'd soon master this obstacle," he muttered. In
consequence of the encouragement thus offered to dishonesty, and the security
afforded to crime, this quarter of the Borough of Southwark was accounted (at
the period of our narrative) the grand receptacle of the superfluous villainy of the
metropolis. ‘Get you invited to a party where the French émigrés will
be present? Nothing easier, dear boy. “You found the cabochon? After all these years?” He
asked, incredulous. ‘Ha!’ uttered Captain Roding triumphantly. ‘What we have to find out is
whether or not the wretched female is in fact Lord Charvill’s granddaughter. Why, honestly enouch. 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. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’
‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. Perhaps
what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of
his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. "We won't have any trouble understanding each
other; same language. I hope
that some day he'll understand how much he owes you.
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This video was uploaded to ladyboyroad.com on 05-07-2024 09:31:24