“I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. 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. He made this simple classification of a large and various sex to the exclusion of all intermediate kinds; he held that the two classes had to be kept apart even in thought and remote from one another. He did make her perceive something of the acute, tormenting desire for her that had arisen in him and possessed him. Then a surge of rage welled up. ‘Assuming she can prove her identity, does Remenham House belong to her?’ Mrs Sindlesham shifted her shoulders. ” She pressed her ear to the door. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. S. ” The doors at the other end of the hall opened.
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