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She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. While I am talking about your friends, I feel—I think you ought to know how I look at it. I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. He embraced her, kissing her cheek, then her neck. 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. V. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. She has given herself up to social work.
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