266 She peered up at him. When she confessed all this to her charge, telling the now grown up babe that there was no hope in the world of establishing any claim, she very soon discovered her mistake. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. It is quite a descent from the clouds, isn’t it?” “I will accept that,” Anna said, “as accounting for the surprise. 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. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. ‘Still, the comtesse has them well in hand. We already had a place to mislay blame. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away.
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