She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch. 1. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. 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.
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