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. Her tone was hoarse with passion. She pawed at him, her hunger for his body making her dizzy with anticipation. It now occurred to him that she had always been fully dressed. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian.
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