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CHAPTER XVII. "Will you come into my lodge?" she said, greeting him. This last remark, being in a degree ungenerous, causes a sensation. A young man, stepping out from the confusion, says, very earnestly,—.
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Conrad
"And what do you think of me?" She has grown a little pale, but her eyes have not left his. Its tune beneath the trees, "Look at him, under that fern there!" exclaims Mona, in her clear treble, that has always something sweet and plaintive in it. "On your right—no! not on your left. Sure you know your right, don't you?" with a full, but unconscious, touch of scorn. "Hurry! hurry! or he will be gone again. Was there ever such a hateful bird! With his good food in the yard, and his warm house, and his mother crying for him! Ah! there you have him! No!—yes! no! He is gone again!" "Why, indeed, unless you wished to possess yourself of something in the old room?".
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