At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he had his hands full. 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. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. His pulses beat fast as he walked, his feet fell lightly upon the pavement. Then Ann Veronica passed on toward the tea in the garden, which was dotted with the elite of Morningside Park society, and there she was pounced upon by Lady Palsworthy and given tea and led about.
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