“You won’t give me away, Anna. 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. ’ ‘Tchah! Better a doubtful welcome here than a confounded French convent. "I am very happy to be of service to you. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. . It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil. The chapel was crowded to excess. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. It never is. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself.
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