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"Yes, of course," she says, dejectedly. A cloud seems to have fallen upon her happy hour. "When did you hear that—that last singer?" she asks, in a subdued voice. "No, she was not in the lodge, but two women were approaching as I left it. I think they were the girl and her mother." "A very doubtful charm.".
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"I am a stranger; I know nothing," she says again, hardly knowing what to say, and moving a little as though she would depart. "No, no; I think not. Come here, Geoffrey; do. It is the queerest thing,—like a riddle. See!" "I shall go," he says, doggedly, as though divining her secret wish. "Come in for a little while and rest yourself," says Mona, hospitably, "while I get the brandy and send it up to poor Kitty.".
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