" "Rather behind me;" and he spoke no more that morning. “But I’m afraid you are going to be in a hopeless minority here as regards me. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. Every window in the public house was filled with guests; and, as in the case of St. B. 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.
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