That was Leonardo’s motto. Why do you think I’m indulging in all this very un-English love talk?’ ‘But you are idiot, Gérard. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. I hated him. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. But luncheon and dinners you will sit at my table. "What will you do?" asked Thames.
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