She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. “I wonder if it is. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. ’ Mischief overtook Melusine. " And he strode out of the place. 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. " "What?" he barked.
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