"Oh, no, don't," says Mona, earnestly. Then she stops short, and blushes a faint sweet crimson.,
"But in that apron, miss, and wid yer arms bare-like, an' widout yer purty blue bow; law, Miss Mona, have sinse, an' don't ye now.",
"That doesn't matter," says Lady Rodney: "it is a mere formula. If it suited your purpose you could have said so—I don't doubt—readily enough.".
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