Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. But, alas! Ah Cum shrugged philosophically. ‘But―but how can he know?’ His soldier’s instinct overtook Gerald and he dropped all his insouciance in a bang, becoming brisk. ” “I don’t think it makes a rap of difference, except for one thing.
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