192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips. She observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. Lucy felt her heart splinter in her breast. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. I don’t suggest any philanthropy. ” She answered. A new thought checked her steps and she froze. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. He must win this man's confidence, even at the risk of being called mad. That was the Frenchie, Valade, surely. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. ’ He regarded her thoughtfully.
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