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. . You know you do, Annabel. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. " As he said this, a slight noise was heard without.
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