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"It is I,—Mona Scully," she calls aloud, when she is within a hundred yards of the hiding-place. "Tim Ryan, come here: I want you." "Turn it where, darling?" asks she, a little dreamily. "About the moon? Oh, many things. I was not thinking of the moon," with faint impatience; "yet, as you ask me, I can remember one thing he says about it.".
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"Good gracious, Mona, whom do you mean?" asks he, aghast both at her look and tone. "Oh, I have my work to do; and besides, I often prefer standing." "'I am all the daughters of my father's house, "And then isn't it sweet to think," continues Violet, warming to her subject, "that when one's friends are dead one can still be of some service to them, in praying for their souls? It seems to keep them always with one. They don't seem so lost to us as they would otherwise.".
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