Anna sprang lightly away across the street. 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. She had other boyfriends and hung out at Foster’s only bar most of the time. That he received guests of the name of Valade at all would have surprised anyone who knew his history.
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