"Your son is a lad of spirit, Mr. ” “I don’t know who you are,” Ennison said quietly, “but you are a thundering liar. ’ ‘Gammon,’ interrupted Hilary scornfully. 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 believes that he is leaving this conscience behind; and I want to watch his disillusion on this particular point. ” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling.
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