But her tears had been for Leonardo’s expulsion, and the loss of his companionship. He could quite understand the daughter of Mr. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. " And he led the way to an inner room, in the middle of which stood a table, covered with a large white cloth. Lucy saw it happen as if in slow motion. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. ‘I know what it means, numbskull! Didn’t spend years in the confounded country without picking up some of their infernal tongue. Her shoulders were gripped hard and a familiar voice spoke.
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