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” 243 She felt a mixture of embarrassment, humiliation, and pride well up in her cheeks, flushing them. 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. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. Hope you ate light before you got here. ’ Gerald reached out and took her hand, enclosing it between both his own.
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