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"Well, just wait till I tuck up the tail of my gown," says Mrs. Geoffrey, airily flinging her pale-blue skirt over her white bare arm. At the mention of the word "secret" every one grows very much alive at once. Even Lady Rodney dries her tears and looks up expectantly. "Yet I feel sure—I know," she says, tremulously, "you are hiding something from me. Why do you not look at me when you answer my questions?".
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"Oh, Geoffrey, do you want to break my heart? Sure you know he is the most vicious animal in the whole stables. Take any horse but that." "She is all your fancy could possibly paint her; she is lovely and divine. Don't try to analyze her charms, my dear Geoff. She is just the prettiest and sweetest woman I ever met. She is young, in the 'very May morn of delight,' yet there is nothing of that horrid shyness—that mauvaise honte—about her that, as a rule, belongs to the 'freshness of morning.' Her laugh is so sweet, so full of enjoyment." One o'clock chimes the tiny timepiece on the mantelshelf; outside the sound is repeated somewhere in the distance in graver, deeper tones. At this Mona turns her gaze secretly upon him. She studies his hair, his gray eyes, his irregular nose,—that ought to have known better,—and his handsome mouth, so resolute, yet so tender, that his fair moustache only half conceals. The world in general acknowledges Mr. Rodney to be a well-looking young man of ordinary merits, but in Mona's eyes he is something more than all this; and I believe the word "ordinary," as applied to him, would sound offensive in her ears..
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