The Closing Scene. Good riddance. Now she knew why the soldiers had not caught him. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. ’ With difficulty, Gerald bit back a laugh. 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. ’ So pat, thought Gerald. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock.
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