'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. One of the reasons why I left Paris and came to London was because there was a man there who wanted me to marry him. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. ‘What you can do, Lucy, rather than make enquiries, is introduce me to this comte and comtesse. ‘Is it worth it?’ he asked at last. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that. In truth, she liked Gerald also.
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