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"If you must know, it is this," says Mona, laying her hand in his and speaking very earnestly. "I am afraid I have done you an injury in marrying you!" "Free-and-easy-going would be a more appropriate term, from all I have heard." "Well, I noticed that, too. There did seem to be a great scarcity of that raw material," answers Darling, lightly. "Yet they are a fine race in spite of it. I'm going over again to see my friend Terry before very long. He is the most amusing fellow, downright brilliant. So is his hair, by the by,—the very richest crimson.".

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"Well, I do like a good story," says Violet, carelessly. For the first time Mona learns she is not like this well-regulated young woman. She falls lamentably short of such excellence. She cannot bring herself to think the world of those she loves well lost for any consideration whatever. And after all—this horrid condition—it would be over in a moment. And she could run home with the coveted paper, and bathe her face in sweet cold water. And then again she shudders. Could she bathe the remembrance of the insult from her heart? Altogether she is a picture, which, if slightly suggestive of artificiality, is yet very nearly perfection. Mona is therefore agreeably surprised, and, being—as all her nation is—susceptible to outward beauty, feels drawn towards this odd young woman in sickly green, with her canine friend beside her. "Oh, not yet!" entreats faithful Mona, in a miserable tone; "not yet. Remember what I said. I promised to remain with him until the very end.".