Let us be gone. ‘And just who is Leonardo?’ ‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly. There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil. I don’t care WHAT happens. "You've given me more than the amount, Sir Rowland," he said, after he had twice counted them, "or I've missed my reckoning.
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