’ ‘How do you do?’ Gerald said pleasantly, stepping from the pillared portico and coming down the shallow stairway. 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. A woman is supposed to know when a man is in love with her. Besides, how am I to ride home without them?" "Don't distress yourself," returned Jack, "you shall walk.
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