Shari draped herself lazily upon her unmade bed. She decided to leave this matter until the morrow and devote the morning to settling up with Mr. 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. ” Her passion conquered for a moment her fear.
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