The ledge, along which he crawled, was about a foot wide. 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. Wood, severely, "and go to bed. Her birthday was four months away, and that, at its extremist point, might give her another five pounds.
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