He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. He watched her, savoring her curious attention. Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. The chief of these was a figure of Liberty, with a cat at her feet, in allusion to the supposed origin of the fortunes of its former founder, Sir Richard Whittington. I don’t suppose a girl can tell if a man is in love with her or not in love with her. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured.
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