Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. ” He said to her with as much casualness as he could muster. “Dear friend,” she said, “this is a matter which you must leave to me to do as I think best. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. 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. ” “What was wrong with them?” Michelle asked timidly. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. .
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