I found him once in my rooms, and I believe that he had a key to my front door. 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. It wasn't worth while to invest imaginatively a man with evil projects simply because he was physically ugly. You should have more. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. ‘I know her, ma’am, but I know next to nothing of her story.
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