Geoffrey, springing down from the dog-cart that has been sent to the station to meet him, brushes the frost from his hair, and stamps his feet upon the stone steps.,
Tyro as he is, standing at so short a distance from his antagonist, he could have hardly failed to blow him into bits, and probably would have done so, but for one little accident.,
"I don't think ye have any call to say that to us, Miss Mona. 'Tisn't fair like, when ye know in yer own heart that we love the very sight of ye, and the laste sound of yer voice!".
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