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"I wish Nick didn't like her so much," says Geoffrey, sadly. "It will cut him up more than all the rest, if he has to give her up." "I do," returns she, tremulously. "On guard," says Mona, whereupon both the brutes crouch upon the ground right before Rodney, and fix him seriously and menacingly with their eyes..

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Without vouchsafing a glance of recognition to the Australian, she sweeps past, leaving them again alone. Paul laughs aloud. To make personal remarks, we all know, is essentially vulgar, is indeed a breach of the commonest show of good breeding; yet somehow Mrs. Geoffrey's tone does not touch on vulgarity, does not even belong to the outermost skirts of ill-breeding. She has an inborn gentleness of her own, that carries her safely over all social difficulties. The general bath-room is to Geoffrey an abomination; nothing would induce him to enter it. His own bath, and nothing but his own bath, can content him. To have to make uncomfortable haste to be first, or else to await shivering the good pleasure of your next-door neighbor, is according to Mr. Rodney, a hardship too great for human endurance. Geoffrey, who would be at any moment as polite to a dairymaid as to a duchess, follows her, and, much to her discomfort,—though she is too civil to say so,—helps her to lay the table. He even insists on filling a dish with the potatoes, and having severely burned his fingers, and having nobly suppressed all appearance of pain,—beyond the dropping of two or three of the esculent roots upon the ground,—brings them in triumph to the spot where Mona is sitting..