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He makes no reply. And for a full minute no word is spoken between them. "What else?" says Mona, shyly. That we can only say of things, they be.".
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Conrad
There is a pause. Mona says nothing, but taking out the flower that has lain upon her bosom all night, pulls it to pieces petal by petal. And this is unlike Mona, because flowers are dear to her as sunshine is to them. "But surely until then Mona may lay claim to the title," says Violet, quickly. "How can I go," he says, without daring to look at her, "until, at least, I ask for forgiveness?" He feels more nervous, more crushed in the presence of this little wounded Irish girl with her pride and her grief, than he has ever felt in the presence of an offended fashionable beauty full of airs and caprices. "Mona, love makes one cruel: I ask you to remember that, because it is my only excuse," he says, warmly. "Don't condemn me altogether; but forgive me once more." The young man answered, "I am mourning for my wife. She died some time ago. I am looking for her.".
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