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Nolly regards her mournfully. "I wouldn't have suited her at all," says Geoffrey. "I should have bored her to extinction, even if she had condescended to look at me, which I am sure she never would." "Well, she did. I don't remember about that, you know. I was quite a little chap, and hustled out of sight if I said 'boo.' But of course she's got over all that, and is as jolly as a sand-boy now," says Geoffrey, gayly. (If only Lady Rodney could have heard him comparing her to a "sand-boy"!).
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Conrad
Old Brian Scully is in his parlor, and comes to meet them as they enter the hall,—his pipe behind his back. "A strange girl, I thought, but very pretty. Yes—was it English she talked?" Perhaps Longfellow has more cleverly—and certainly more tenderly—than any other poet described the earlier approaches of the god of Love, when he says,— "I wasn't," says Mona: "I went out a great deal. All day long I was in the open air. That is what made my hands so brown last autumn.".
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