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"There is too much to forgive," says Lady Rodney, and as she speaks two tears roll down her cheeks. This evidence of emotion from her is worth a torrent from another. "Why, what is this?" she says, a moment later; "and what a curious hand! Not a gentleman's surely." "Now, this is kind,—very kind," says the little man, approvingly, shaking both their hands. "And so soon, too; no time lost. Poor soul! he is calling incessantly for you, my dear Mrs. Geoffrey. It is a sad case,—very—very. Away from every one he knows. But come in; come in.".

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"You aren't angry, are you?" says Mona, now really contrite. "I couldn't help it, and it was like it, you know." At home—in Sydney, I mean—the life was different. It was free, unfettered, and in a degree lawless. It suited me better." "Her form!" says Mrs. Geoffrey, surveying the tiny Mrs. Lennox from head to foot in sheer wonderment. "She need hardly pride herself on that. She hasn't much of it, has she?" "There wasn't much society to go into," says Mona, "and I was only fifteen when staying with Aunt Anastasia. She," confidentially, "made rather a grand match for us, you know." (Lady Rodney grinds her teeth, and tells herself she is on the point of fainting.) "She married the Provost of Trinity College; but I don't think he did her any good. She is the oddest old thing! Even to think of her now makes me laugh. You should have seen her," says Mrs. Geoffrey, leaning back in her chair, and giving way to her usual merry laugh, that rings like a peal of silver bells, "with her wig that had little curls all over it, and her big poke-bonnet like a coal-scuttle!".