The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. “I’m really very sorry. I do not know anything of him since I have fourteen years, and that he sent me to Blaye to be a nun. But though she lied about pretty much everything else, she didn’t lie about that. I wasn't taught that; I simply fell into it from contact. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. ‘You! Tell this fool who is the keeper here to come to me at once. He rather liked the "sir"; it signified both gratefulness and the chastened spirit. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. 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. I——” She threw herself into an easy chair. I proved myself early as an athlete, skills I retained long after my return home.
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