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. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. Published by Elizabeth Bailey 2012 www. "Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time.
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