She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. 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. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. ’ ‘With ease, mademoiselle,’ he countered, catching her blade. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile.
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