She had not nursed Leonardo for weeks for nothing. A cold shiver came over her. Italians. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. It is really cheap, you know. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. All the precious paintings and statues of the divine family were here, as was the enormous wooden crucifix set above the altar. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself.
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