” He looked at her intensely, his dark eyes deepened with sleeplessness. The old fool’s been working on you through your sister to keep off the stage. Stay! I'll go myself. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. 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. " "Jack's mother?" exclaimed the young man.
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