Even when you've a knave to deal with, let your actions be plain, and above-board. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance. 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.
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