’—he’s frightfully anti-Mendelian—having it all their own way. E. ‘You wouldn’t know one end of a pistol from the other. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. ’ ‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom.
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