Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. 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. Born on a South Sea island, she said. His long struggle with himself, his avoidance of her were quite unnecessary. " "And you flatter yourself you can detain me?" laughed Jack. ’ ‘You certain? She’s a thought too volatile for my money.
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