"In wine there is truth. ’ She frowned suddenly. ‘Just what I was going to tell you, miss. 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. Anna said nothing. "For the caption!" replied Jackson, coolly drawing a brace of pistols from his pockets. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. Gerald at once lowered his voice to that intimate level again, and leaned towards her.
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