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. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. —'Why, hang every bailiff that sets a foot in your territories, and you're safe,' says I. ’ ‘And you do not know me. You square the G. I can never be grateful enough. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil.
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