‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. And to think that man got it all out of the poorest little love-story for a respectable titled lady! Have you read of it?” “Never. “You’re—I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica. “Thanks to you. Since her husband has laid me under such a weight of obligation, I couldn't, in honour, continue— hem!" and he took another explanatory pinch. Spurling, you're a witness to the bet. Only a book detective could dope this out.
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