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When she is quite gone, he pulls himself together with a jerk, and draws a heavy sigh, and thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, continues his walk. The momentous Friday comes at last, and about noon Mona and Geoffrey start for the Towers. They are not, perhaps, in the exuberant spirits that should be theirs, considering they are going to spend their Christmas in the bosom of their family,—at all events, of Geoffrey's family which naturally for the future she must acknowledge as hers. They are indeed not only silent, but desponding, and as they get out of the train at Greatham and enter the carriage sent by Sir Nicholas to meet them their hearts sink nearly into their boots, and for several minutes no words pass between them. "Mona! what are you going to say to me?".
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Conrad
"It is pretty, I think," she says. "The duke," with a grave look, "gave it to me just two years after my son was born." "Yes, I am pretty," she says, after a minute's pause, with a long-drawn sigh of deepest satisfaction. Then she glances at Geoffrey. "And for your sake I am glad of it Now, come here and stand beside me," she goes on, presently, holding out her hand backwards as though loath to lose sight of her own reflection. "Let me see how you look in the water." Perhaps, could she only know how charmingly becoming this style of headdress is to her flower-like face, she would not have blushed at all. "I do feel with you," he says, hastily. "Do not believe otherwise." Then, as though impelled to it, he says in a low tone, though very distinctly, "I would gladly make your griefs mine, if you would make my joys yours.".
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