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"What! kiss the Australian? I'd see him—very well—that is—ahem! I certainly would not, you know," says Mr. Rodney. "What lovely creatures!" says Geoffrey, who has a passion for animals: they seem to acknowledge him as a friend. As Mona looses them from their den, they go to him, and, sniffing round him, at last open their great jaws into a satisfied yawn, and, raising themselves, rest their paws upon his breast and rub their faces contentedly against his. "It is here," says Mona, rather pleased at his remembering this promise of hers, and, going to a desk, proceeds to open a secret drawer, in which lies the picture in question..
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"I will do anything, my own." "He isn't!" says Geoffrey, panting "I have him at last!" Whereupon he emerges from a wilderness of ferns, drawing after him and holding up triumphantly to the light the wandering bird, that looks more dead than alive, with all its feathers drooping, and its breath coming in angry cries. Finally, he throws up the mental argument, and decides on letting things take their course, telling himself it will be a simple matter to leave the Towers at any moment, should their visit there prove unsatisfactory. At the farthest, Leighton must be ready for them in a month or so. "Her form!" says Mrs. Geoffrey, surveying the tiny Mrs. Lennox from head to foot in sheer wonderment. "She need hardly pride herself on that. She hasn't much of it, has she?".
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