Now, do what you please. " "Curse on, and welcome," jeered Wild. 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. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem.
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