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"Then, no doubt, she heaped upon you priceless gems of Irish wit in her mother-tongue?" The woman called again, "No, no; do not go on; come now and wrestle once with me." "Bonuvs," says Mona, mildly, going back naturally to the Irish term for those interesting babies..
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Then Geoffrey offers Mona his hand, and leads her to the centre of the polished floor. There they salute each other in a rather Grandisonian fashion, and then separate. "You have come!" cries he, in a tone Mona has never heard before, and then—there is no mistake about the fact that he and the shadow have embraced each other heartily. "But why not to-night?" asks her Grace, who has noticed with curiosity the girl's refusal to dance with a lanky young man in a hussar uniform, who had evidently made it the business of the evening to get introduced to her. Indeed, for an hour he had been feasting his eyes upon her fresh young beauty, and, having gone to infinite trouble to get presented to her, had been rewarded for his trouble by a little friendly smile, a shake of the head, and a distinct but kindly refusal to join in the mazy dance. Fortunately this dagger refuses to be shaken from its hold. Mona, feeling that fair play is at an end, and that treachery is asserting itself, turns instinctively to her faithful allies the bloodhounds, who have risen, and, with their hair standing straight on their backs, are growling ominously..
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