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"You dance, of course," says Lady Rodney, turning to Mona, a little ashamed, perhaps, of her late rudeness. "It is late," he says. "You should be at home, child. Who am I, that you should do me so great a service?" Then, turning quietly to Rodney, "I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, sir," he says, gravely; "but I entreat you to take Miss Scully safely back to the Farm without delay." Of waving bough, or warbling bird,.
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Conrad
Friday is fine, and towards nightfall grows still milder, until it seems that even in the dawn of October a summer's night may be born. "Where are you now, Mona?" asks Geoffrey, suddenly, laying his hand with a loving pressure on her shoulder. "In Afghanistan or Timbuctoo? Far from us, at least." There is a little vague reproach and uneasiness in his tone. "But you have no piano?" This story tells how these two lodges came to be made..
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