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"I bear you no illwill; you mistake me," says Mona, quietly: "I am only sorry for Nicholas, because I do love him." "Mona," says Geoffrey, to her suddenly, in a low whisper, throwing his arm round her (they are driving home, alone in the small night-brougham)—"Mona, do you know what you have done to-night? The whole room went mad about you. They would talk of no one else. Do not let them turn your head." "Oh, no," says Geoffrey, hastily, recovering himself just in time; "she's all right, you know, my mother; and you'll like her awfully when—when you know her, and when—when she knows you.".
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"Oh, now, Mrs. Geoffrey, come—I say—how cruel yon can be!" "I need no queen when I have got a king," says the girl, with ready wit and great tenderness. "Nolly, you are inventing," says Mrs. Geoffrey, sternly. To demand the will from Paul Rodney without further proof that it is in his possession than the fact of having discovered by chance a secret cupboard is absurd; yet not to demand it seems madness. To see him, to reason with him, to accuse him of it, is her one desire; yet she can promise herself no good from such an interview. She sighs as she thus seeks aimlessly to see a satisfactory termination to all her meditations..
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