You mustn't go dressing up Tom, Dick, and Harry in Henry Esmond's ruffles. "You're wanted. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. Gerald raised his cockaded hat, and smiled. “I had those beautiful roses from you on my first night, and a tiny little note but no address. 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.
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