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. How different were his present feelings compared with those he had experienced on quitting it. “Maybe we could swing a scholarship to Boston College for you, you know, with your violin and all. You will forgive my remarking, Anna, that I consider there is a great change in your manner towards me and your general deportment since our marriage.
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