Sir John waved her back. What part of 1902 is it that you grew up in?\" He poked fun at her, clearly infatuated. To-morrow morning I shall have made up my mind what to do. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. Then, when the tension was getting unendurable, and she was on the verge of speaking to some casual passer-by and demanding help, her follower vanished. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. It’s no good flying out at that, Vee; I didn’t arrange it.
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