“Number 13, please, cabman. . She got pregnant. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. 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. Your face has flitted out of my watch-fire, and then I have been a haunted man. James's built for offices of the meanest description. Dashing through the open door, he crossed the Old Bailey, plunged into a narrow court on the opposite side of the way, and was out of sight in a minute, baffling all pursuit. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion.
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