Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard. She felt flattered. 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. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. “Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. I should like to have had you forgive me. ” He receded from her. That dress! Only a man—and an unworldly one—would have permitted you to proceed on your adventure dressed in a gown thirty years out of date. “Well, no,” she answered. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor.
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