Tell me that again. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. 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. ‘Now, madame, tell me all about your life in France. Sebastian was always a man who felt the need to surround himself with the trappings of the finer life.
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