Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. He followed. She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. The villain has enjoyed his security too long. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. It was his tall stance and his pale skin that drew him out of the crowd.
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