"What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. 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 it was of vital importance to Melusine, and Gerald felt he must pursue it. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. “Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. ” Drummond looked up with mock eagerness.
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