White. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. Then they had released her arms and were trying to push her away. “I ought to have done. So dreadful were these shouts as to produce an effect upon the hardened feelings of Jonathan, who shrank out of sight. . ” Lucy felt herself grow feverish inside. 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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