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. "Is there anything wrong with it?" "Wrong? Why, you have been imposed upon somewhere. Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation methods and addresses.
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