"What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. “What are you two whispering about?” She turned towards Martin. She began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations. You want industry—you want steadiness. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. 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.
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