He was amused. The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. "Where is he?" he cried. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. 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’m rather a persistent person. . Shortly Ruth and Spurlock took the way home. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. ‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary.
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