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. " "You're not deceiving me!" said Thames, doubtfully. A few bricks, dislodged probably by his last descent, came clattering down the chimney, and as it was perfectly dark, gave him the notion that some one was endeavouring to force an entrance into the room. Now you can understand why I have been obliged to——” “Yes, yes, I understand that,” Courtlaw interrupted. I did not choose to mention my knowledge of this fact to your worthy father; but you may rely on its correctness. I spoke a thought aloud.
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