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CHAPTER XVI Ah cum began to worry. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. Give me your name, girl!’ ‘Again?’ Mademoiselle rolled her eyes. 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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