"I've won, after all. ” Sebastian replied merrily, his eyes fixed on the road. ’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. Go to it. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. 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.
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