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"Well; there isn't much, is there?" says Mona, pleasantly. And hath in it the more of heavenly light. Do paint the meadows with delight.".
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Conrad
"And then isn't it sweet to think," continues Violet, warming to her subject, "that when one's friends are dead one can still be of some service to them, in praying for their souls? It seems to keep them always with one. They don't seem so lost to us as they would otherwise." Rodney, lifting the gun, takes as sure aim as he can at the form of the departing hero; but evidently the bullet misses its mark, as no sound of fear or pain comes to disturb the utter silence of the evening. And then Geoffrey, marking all this, is vexed within himself, and, going over to her, lays his arm once more around her neck, and presses his cheek to hers. They are both silent for a little while, and then Dorothy says, softly,—.
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