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. I’m afraid I’m a terribly clumsy fellow. I ——” He stopped short. Emerging from this aperture, he was about to descend, when he was alarmed by hearing the tramp of horses' feet swiftly approaching, and had only time to hide himself behind one of the largest signboards before alluded to when two horsemen rode up. ‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly. There wasn’t, I know, between myself and my father. ” “We should go back.
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