. 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 was—a millionaire. Part 4 Interpretation came pouring down upon her almost blindingly; she understood now the room, the waiter, the whole situation. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own.
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