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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. . In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. “Why don’t they wait?” he added. She shuddered with relief as it seemed that Mike and Shari were still out and about.
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