"Yet even were it so you would love me, Mona?",
"If ever you should be sorry afterwards," she says, miserably, still tormenting herself with unseen evils,—"if ever I should see discontent in your eyes, how would it be with me then?",
"Call off that dog," cries Geoffrey, turning savagely to Mona. Whereupon, having gained her purpose, Mona bids the dog lie down, and the faithful brute, exquisitely trained, and unequal to disobedience, drops off his foe at her command and falls crouching to the ground, yet with his eyes red and bloodshot, and his breath coming in parting gasps that betray the wrath he would gladly gratify..
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