But if we had gone under—!” They regarded one another silently, and Ann Veronica had one of her penetrating flashes. Melusine—the real Melusine—evidently did not see him immediately, for her attention was on her descent from the high vehicle. “Stay where you are for a moment,” she directed. That night in his den he smoked many pipes. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. 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. “In any case you will never receive any different sort of answer from me.
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