Tell me why you ran away from the convent. " CHAPTER VI. ’ ‘How can you possibly enquire for her?’ demanded Hilary acidly. ‘Grace à vous, I am compelled to rescue myself. 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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