Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense. Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom. ‘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. Wood, leaping from the bed. For if Gerald had indeed gone to see this Prudence, it was better to wait for his report.
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