. 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. “In a sense—yes. Why aren’t you folded up clean in lavender—as every young woman ought to be? What have you been doing with yourself?. But I see very clearly that as things are a daughter is necessarily dependent on her father and bound while she is in that position to live harmoniously with his ideals. He was also aware that all his arguments would shatter themselves against her resolutions. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Jack appealed to the new auditors, and again detailed his story, but with no better success than heretofore. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable.
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