“There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people. You think you love this other man! No doubt you do love him. I undid his coat, and I took it from his pocket. 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. The buboes broke and God took Lucia's mother. “Rather darker than most of them. . “For Heaven’s sake, Dunster, don’t let her out of the carriage, or hansom, or whatever she came in.
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