" "A miniature! Of whom?" "That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. “Yes,” he said, “I shall come. He smiled. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. ” “I have denied it,” she answered. “DEAR MR. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. 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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