” So only a few minutes after Ennison’s departure, while Anna stood indeed with her sister’s open letter still in her hand, Courtlaw drove up in hot haste. ’ ‘Probably not. ” He meditated. 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. Nothing anyone could say or do would change him. Well, let him be honest. But his own ferocity was less now that she was disarmed. Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day. " "What is it?" asked Thames.
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