CHAPTER XXIII. Leonardo had not taught her to do so. “You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest. Best assured of that. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time. Lucy ate without passion. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. No tricks would serve.
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