‘And just who is Leonardo?’ ‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly. “I will put the question,” Drummond said gravely. This queer father of hers had given her everything but his arms. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. E. You must let me do whatever I can for you. He turned in at the club. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise.
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