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In the earliest times there was a man who had a very beautiful daughter. Many young men wished to marry her, but whenever she was asked she shook her head and said she did not wish to marry. And very honestly, too, because at the time of their visits, when Lady Rodney was entertaining them in the big drawing-room and uttering platitudes and pretty lies by the score, she was deep in the recesses of the bare brown wood, roaming hither and thither in search of such few flowers as braved the wintry blasts. This speech is made much of, and laughed at for no reason whatever except that Violet and Doatie are determined to end the unpleasant discussion by any means, even though it may be at the risk of being deemed silly. After some careful management they get Mona out of the room, and carry her away with them to a little den off the eastern hall, that is very dear to them..
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As Mona advances to his side, through the gathering gloom of fast approaching night, pale almost as he is, and trembling in every limb, this miserable anxiety dies out of his face, leaving behind it a rest and peace unutterable. "I don't like Mr. Boer," says Mona, "and it was not me he came to see." 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. "No, no," she says; "all is different now, you know, and you should never have come here again at all; but"—with charming inconsequence—"why did you go away last evening without bidding me good-night?".
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