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This is just a little too much. Mona gives way. Standing well back from her butter, she lets her pretty rounded bare arms fall lightly before her to their full length, and as her fingers clasp each other she turns to Rodney and breaks into a peal of laughter sweet as music. Here she gets completely out of her depths, and stops to consider from whence this train of thought sprung. The pig is forgotten,—indeed, to get from pigs to diamonds and back again is not an easy matter,—and has to be searched for again amidst the dim recesses of her brain, and if possible brought to the surface. "But why?" asks Mona, in amaze. "Didn't he wear one?".
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"And, if so, what are you doing here?" says Mona, reprovingly. "Mona! Do you want me to stay?" asks he, suddenly, taking her hands in his. "Tell me the truth." "O Death! thou strange, mysterious power, seen every day yet never understood but by the incommunicative dead, what art thou?" He moves towards the door with "pride in his port, defiance in his eye," as Goldsmith would say..
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