He recalled with exasperating perplexity her clear, matter-of-fact tone as she talked about love-making being unconvincing. . Just my room. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. "I couldn't bear to see you in it. Young noblemen ought to be indulged in their frolics. 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. This queer father of hers had given her everything but his arms.
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