. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. The major’s hand stilled. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. “Now here hath been dawning another blue day; I’m just a poor woman, please take it away. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free.
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