” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. ‘—and I love your raven hair, and your bright blue eyes, and your very kissable lips—’ suiting the action to the words ‘—and I love the crazy way you speak English, and the way you curse at me. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. I have been the vicomte’s secretary, remember.
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