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. Why had he offered her that kiss on board The Tigress? Perhaps that had been his hour of disenchantment. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. “But you must forgive me, John. Is Jack what Mrs. Just an idea of mine.
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