He displayed a quite unprofessional vein of mysticism in the matter. 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. “I love your sister. “Have you never met a suitable wife? What is wrong with getting married and having children as Mike and Shari have done? I should love to think. I do not care in the least. The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. . " "Take care you don't fall into it yourself," returned Jackson, with a slight sneer.
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