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"Go on, Nolly," says Nicholas. "Come home, Mona; be advised by me," says Geoffrey, gently, as the man skulks away, walking in a shambling, uncertain fashion, and with a curious trick of looking every now and then over his shoulder, as though expecting to see an unwelcome follower. "And mine is Mona Scully," returns she, with the smile that seems part of her lips, and which already has engraven itself on Mr. Rodney's heart. "Now, I suppose, we know each other.".
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"And what do you think of me?" She has grown a little pale, but her eyes have not left his. "Oh, yes, thank you," says Mona, who is both surprised and carried away by the other's unexpected eloquence. Yew-trees—grown till they form high walls—are cut and shaped in prim and perfect order, some like the walls of ancient Troy, some like steps of stairs. Little doors are opened through them, and passing in and out one walks on for a mile almost, until one loses one's way and grows puzzled how to extricate one's self from so charming a maze. "And 'A dumb priest loses his benefice,'" quotes Mona, in her turn, almost gayly too..
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