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"Oh, no! it is not that! you must know it is not that," says Mona, in deep grief. "It is that I cannot marry you!" "I won't hear of it!" says Mona, interrupting him vehemently. "You would have to go up that road again," with a strong shudder. "I shall not go indoors until you give me your honor you will stay in the village to-night." "Well, now," they replied; "we have those animals, how are we to kill them?".
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"Yes, I know," said Mona, eagerly interrupting him. "And then she will put her arms round me, and kiss me just like this," suiting the action to the word. "Oh, no! it is not that! you must know it is not that," says Mona, in deep grief. "It is that I cannot marry you!" "She went to live in Anthrim with her mother's sister. Later she got to Dublin, to her aunt there,—another of the parson's daughters,—who married the Provost in Thrinity; a proud sort he was, an' awful tiresome with his Greeks an' his Romans, an' not the height of yer thumb," says Mr. Scully, with ineffable contempt. "I went to Dublin one day about cattle, and called to see me niece; an' she took to me, bless her, an' I brought her down with me for change of air, for her cheeks were whiter than a fleece of wool, an' she has stayed ever since. Dear soul! I hope she'll stay forever. She is welcome." No one answers; the very moanings of the old crone in the chimney-corner are hushed as the clear young voice rings through the house, and then stops abruptly, as though its owner is overcome with emotion. The men move back a little, and glance uneasily and with some fear at her from under their brows..
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