” “He was probably right,” she declared. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. ’ ‘Now then, missie,’ began the sergeant severely, ‘just you hand over that dagger. 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. “Why should one pretend? “Think of all the beauty in the world that is covered up and overlaid. “I am giving my understudy a chance. She lay and nibbled at a sprig of dwarf rhododendron.
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