She sensed that he was looking for her. “Yeah, where the hell were you? My friends would have driven you home when I came home if I could have found you. You must live for me. 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. Across the blackboard the colored chalks flew like flights of variously tinted rockets as diagram after diagram flickered into being.
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