I don’t think I shall ever care for this bonnet again. Sir John once more looked around him. ‘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. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. And, besides, she didn’t just immediately want to make her attempt. She ought to have leapt back on guard.
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