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Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. ‘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. It seemed as if all the precautions previously taken were here accumulated. Ann Veronica watched him from the dining-room window, and after some moments of maidenly hesitation rambled out into the garden in a reverse direction to Mr. ” “Such independence,” he answered quickly, “is a vice. Sheppard. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky.
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