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. CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. Monsieur Charvill, he has not the means to choose different. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage. The island was snake-free. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures.
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