She addressed Ann Veronica with an air of conveying great open secrets to 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. Her voice recalled him. ’ ‘Oh,’ Gerald uttered, disappointed. Her thought spoke aloud. The baby was placed in her 19 lap. But the relief from the strain of her immediate necessities was immense.
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