All three, then, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. 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. Said Prudence, with commendable human kindness: "My sister and I are going on to Shanghai and Peking. She went to her own table and sat down.
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