She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. Come on. 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. She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. She stared. Before she knew what had happened, Gosse turned suddenly, and vaulted one of the pews into the gap behind. . 54 \"Yes?\" \"No one says 'Oh my word' anymore.
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