It 163 invariably leads to trouble. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. ‘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.
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