“Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. ” She stopped abruptly, afraid that Ramage might be able to infer Capes from the things she had said, and indeed his face was very eager. 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. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. " "I will carry you to the house, or fetch Mr. .
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