And when she went to sleep, then always Capes became the novel and wonderful guest of her dreams. 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. ” She looked at him doubtfully. "For the sake of the girl. ‘Hilary was right. Lady Palsworthy liked Ann Veronica because she was never awkward, had steady eyes, and an almost invariable neatness and dignity in her clothes. ’ She counted off on her fingers.
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