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. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. Apparently he did not see his recent companions. Lucy did not suspect the date would be an issue, considering Cathy's rather liberal attitude towards dating in general. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. “How did you know I haven’t been getting any sleep --?” “Oops, that’s my class.
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