"Where are we now?" says Geoffrey, suddenly, stopping and facing "the boy.",
"Well, no; but that is pure Irish," says Geoffrey, unmoved. Mona, with lowered head, turns her wedding-ring round and round upon her finger, and repents bitterly that little slip of hers when talking with the duchess last night.,
"I should never be afraid of him," returns Mona. "He has kind eyes. He is"—slowly and meditatively—"very like you.".
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