He saw that his words were falling upon dull ears. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature. Some indeed carried themselves, dressed themselves even, rather as foreign visitors from the land of “Looking Backward” and “News from Nowhere” than as the indigenous Londoners they were. She was nestled under his bedspread. Sebastian had known it was coming, but he could not avoid sleeping as easily as she could. A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night. ‘And just who is Leonardo?’ ‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly.
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