Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. ‘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. She hadn't meant to ask anything for herself. I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall.
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