"You have not tired yourself, dear, I hope. The day has been so oppressively warm, more like July than May. Would you like your tea now, Violet? We can have it half an hour earner if you wish.",
Mona, rising, pushes Violet gently into her own chair, a little black-and-gold wicker thing, gaudily cushioned.,
"It is forever!" he says, incoherently. "Oh, Mona, at least—at least promise you will always think kindly of me.".
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