“Both!” said Ann Veronica. You desire to know who he was, Sir Rowland. 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. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. She regarded the young man coldly. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. "Austin will stare," thought Jack, "when he comes here in the morning. It could not be she who had done this. Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator.
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