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"I shall be charmed," says Violet; "but what is a country dance? Will 'Sir Roger' do?" Having said all this without a break, Jenkins feels he has outdone himself, and retires on his laurels. "By Jove, you know, it is odd," says Geoffrey, presently, speaking as one might who has for long been following out a train of thought by no means unpleasant, "his sending for her, and that: there must be something in it. Rodney didn't write to her for nothing. It must have been to——" Here he checks himself abruptly, remembering his promise to Mona to say nothing about the scene in the library. "It certainly means something," he winds up, a little tamely..

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She motions impatiently with her hand, and Geoffrey, being compelled to it by her vehemence, draws a high chair close to that part of the wall that seems to have claimed her greatest attention. "Yes," returns he with a smile. "I am Nicholas." He ignores the formal title. "Geoffrey, I expect, spoke to you of me as 'old Nick;' he has never called me anything else since we were boys." All the young men thought this was funny; they laughed a good deal at Scarface as he was walking away. "You hurt me!" replies he, in a peculiar tone, that is not so peculiar but it fully satisfies her. And then he smiles, and, seeing old Brian has once more returned to the fire and his pipe, and Biddy has gone for fresh water, he stoops over the reddened basin, and, in spite of all the unromantic surroundings, kisses her as fondly as if roses and moonbeams and dripping fountains and perfumed exotics were on every side. And this, because true romance—that needs no outward fire to keep it warm—is in his heart..