The gentlemen are so particular now, and a good thing too, I say. She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. Everything was going to hell. As a matter of fact, I had never spoken to him before in my life. Now the sense of beauty was spreading to a multitude of hitherto unsuspected aspects of the world about her.
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