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At this Mona, being a creature of impulse, grows once more pale and troubled. To her there is nothing strange or new, either in the hour or the place. Often does she come here in the moonlight with her faithful attendant and her two dogs, to sit and dream away a long sweet hour brimful of purest joy, whilst drinking in the plaintive charm that Nature as a rule flings over her choicest paintings. "Worse!" repeats his mother, in a withering tone. In this mood she is not nice, and a very little of her suffices..
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"Well?" says Violet, who is smiling, and seems to see a joke where Mona fails to see anything amusing. "I can't," says Mona; "it would be very unfair; and besides," petulantly, "it is all too absurd. Why, if Mr. Moore were to ask me to marry him ten thousand times again, I should never say anything but 'no.'" "Well, just wait till I tuck up the tail of my gown," says Mrs. Geoffrey, airily flinging her pale-blue skirt over her white bare arm. "No," with a little flickering smile, that has pain and sorrow in it; "for the simple reason that I shall never marry.".
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