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. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for you, the whole song is for you. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. His safety must be looked to. ’ ‘Ah.
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