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CHAPTER XXIII. "No, she was not in the lodge, but two women were approaching as I left it. I think they were the girl and her mother." "Oh, no; because if you can sing at all—that is correctly, and without false notes—you must feel music and love it.".
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And now the horses draw up before a brilliantly-lighted hall, the doors of which are thrown wide as though in hospitable expectation of their coming. Seeing further talk is useless, Mona slips her hand into Rodney's and leads him down the road. "It appears he had a pocket-pistol with him, Sir Nicholas, and going home through the wood he stumbled over some roots, and it went off and injured him fatally. It is an internal wound, my lady. Dr. Bland, who is with him, says there is no hope." "It was two hours ago," says Mona, gently. "And then it was quite daylight, or at least"—truthfully—"only the beginning of dusk.".
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