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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. “I have spoken too many truths to-night. “He seems like such a nice boy. Sheppard, faintly. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. Hogarth," remarked Jack, dejectedly. "I should call it putting him out of the way. "Mr. CHAPTER XXXI.
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