"No, she didn't," interposes he, lightly. "She never funked it for a moment: she's got any amount of pluck. He didn't exactly press it against her forehead, you know; but," airily, "it is all the same thing.",
"But why, darling? Could you not be happy as my wife?",
"Do not stir. Your head is badly cut, an' it bleeds still," says Mona, with a shoulder. "I cannot stop it. Oh, what shall I do?".
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