9. ” Anna was not late, but her heart sank within her when she entered the drawingroom. . Hurry to me, I entreat you. She was watching him intently. I proved myself early as an athlete, skills I retained long after my return home. ‘Go on, Gerald. 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.
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