’ Gerald eyed her with interest. The doctor walked over to the bed, folded his arms across his chest and stared down into the unabashed eyes of his patient. “If I were to marry now,” she said, “it would be with a sense of humiliation. But it was under false names, so I dare say it ain’t valid. 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. She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop.
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