” She let him make love to her that night. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. “Well,” she said. But he didn’t marry her. . I love some one else. ’ ‘Aye, miss,’ Kimble agreed, taking the garments, ‘but where will I find you?’ ‘I do not know. 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. Can't I make you see?" "But I'm telling you Ruth loves you. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. Now you're up, take this spike. Of course I knew all about him years ago, and he is exactly like everybody’s description of him. ’ ‘Oh, that tragic pair,’ uttered her ladyship in saddened tones.
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