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. His course, however, was no longer interrupted, and he crept on. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. ’ ‘You mean the bookroom, miss. "He lives at Dollis Hill, a beautiful spot near Willesden, about four or five miles from town, where he has taken a farm. "When it thunders, the thief becomes honest," muttered Wood.
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