’ His brows rose. Myn Got! haanging runs in some families, Muntmeester. 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. For I still love her mother. After the twins were past the toddling age, Clotilde finally caught on when the children cleaved to Lucia’s breast when it was time to leave for a fortnight abroad. ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one.
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