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 was Annabel who caught at the paper. Can you imagine how dreadful it must be for them? Most of them arrive here almost penniless. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. ’ ‘No, of course you could not,’ Gerald soothed.
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