“I never dreamt!” she said. "But pray tell me if her husband has escaped?" "Her husband!" echoed Jonathan scornfully. It gave him plenty of time to obsess over his random crushes, which worried her. 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. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. Borne along by the current, Darrell was instantly at the boat's side.
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