’ He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and brought out a packet of papers. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. She was not quite clear how she should find it, but she felt she would. ‘Now then, my lad, you’re under arrest you are. He thought it best to let the matter drop. He hated himself a little for it. Another coach was then procured, in which the prisoner was placed. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats.
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