A cup of lies. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. ’ ‘No, I wouldn’t have believed you. “Please let me drive you home. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image.
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