"One of Thomas's billet-doux, no doubt," says Geoffrey, dreamily, alluding to the under-footman, but thinking of something else.,
Her face is hidden; it is lying on her arms, and they are cast, in the utter recklessness and abandonment of her grief, across the feet of him who, only yesterday, had been her "man,"—her pride and her delight.,
"Yes, you do," says Mona, with a little obstinate shake of her head. "You call us dirty, for one thing.".
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