“Lucy, you have to play for us after dinner, oh please. ” Ann Veronica sat with her chin on her hand, red-lit and saying little, and Miss Miniver discoursed. 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.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNy45OS4yMjEgLSAyNi0wNi0yMDI0IDA2OjA1OjIzIC0gMTk3ODc0MTI3OQ==
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