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"Is it possible you see nothing to admire?" says Mona, with intense disgust. Mona evades a reply. "Mona," says Rodney, divining her intent, "stay you here while I go and expostulate with these men. It is late, darling, and their blood is up, and they may not listen to you. Let me speak to them.".
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"I feel it keenly," says Rodney, caressing the handsome creatures as they crouch at his feet. "Where did you get them?" "Oh, it is dreadfully late!" says Mona, with much compunction. "Come, let us hurry." "Nolly, you have no romance in your nature," says Nicholas, severely. "But do," goes on Violet, in her soft, even monotone, that is so exactly suited to her face. "It is rather pleasant thinking. Confession, you know, is so soothing; and then there are always the dear saints, with their delightful tales of roses and lilies, and tears that turn into drops of healing balm, and their bones that lie in little glass cases in the churches abroad. It is all so picturesque and pretty, like an Italian landscape. And it is so comfortable, too, to know that, no matter how naughty we may be here, we can still get to heaven at last by doing some great and charitable deed.".
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