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Mona is down at the gate waiting for him, evidently brimful of information. Jenkins, the antediluvian butler, proves himself a man of his word. There are, evidently, "no two ways" about Jenkins. "Seeking the seclusion that her chamber grants" about ten o'clock to-night, after a somewhat breezy evening with her mother-in-law, Mona descries upon her hearthrug, dozing blissfully, two huge hounds, that raise their sleepy tails and heads to welcome her, with the utmost condescension, as she enters her room. "Is there? Then I shall certainly return for it," says Geoffrey, who is too much of a gentleman to pretend to understand all her words seem to imply. "It is really no journey from this to England.".
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Conrad
"I do not wish to lay claim to anything," says Mona, throwing up her head with a little proud gesture,—"least of all to what does not by right belong to me. To be Mrs. Geoffrey is all I ask." It is quite half-past six; and though there is no light in the room, save the glorious flames given forth by the pine logs that lie on the top of the coals, still one can see that the occupants of the apartment are dressed for dinner. "Yes. You may bring it to me—to-morrow," returns she, with the faintest hesitation, which but enhances the value of the permission, whereon his heart once more knows hope and content. "And the condition?" asks she, eagerly, going closer to him. What is it that she would not do to restore happiness to those she has learned to love so well?.
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