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CHAPTER XI. "My dear, what I could do, I have done," says the little man, patting her hand in his kind fatherly fashion; "but he has gone beyond human skill. And now one thing: you have come here, I know, with the tender thought of soothing his last hours: therefore I entreat you to be calm and very quiet. Emotion will only distress him, and, if you feel too nervous, you know—perhaps—eh?" THE BLACKFEET CREATION.
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Geoffrey starts. He walks quickly up to Mona, and, stooping over her, very gently loosens her hand from the other hand she is holding. Passing his arm round her neck, he turns her face deliberately in his own direction—as though to keep her eyes from resting on the bed and lays it upon his own breast. "Why, what is the matter?" he says, seeing signs of the lively storm on all their faces. Doatie explains hurriedly. "Oh, nothing," says Mona, flushing. "I suppose I was lonely. Don't mind me. Tell me all about yourself and your visit." "You know what I mean," says Mona, reproachfully. "You needn't pretend you don't. And it is quite true that England does despise us.".
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