G. 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. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. He decided that Hoddy should pay a colossal price for the Dawn Pearl—shame, loneliness, torment, for only through these agencies would he learn your worth. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. ‘Come inside at once, child.
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