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. Wood's anxiety respecting the fugitive was speedily relieved by hearing another waterman busy himself in preparation for starting; and, shortly after, the dip of a second pair of oars sounded upon the river. “I wonder,” said Ann Veronica at last, “if I am beautiful? I wonder if I shall ever shine like a light, like a translucent goddess?— “I wonder— “I suppose girls and women have prayed for this, have come to this—In Babylon, in Nineveh. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. She will sail, at early dawn to-morrow, for Rotterdam.
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