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She walks deliberately forward and enters the cabin, Geoffrey closely following her. "Would you bite me?" murmurs she, fondly, as the bird flies off again alarmed at the presence of the tall stranger, who already is busy comparing most favorably the face of its mistress with the faces of all the fashionable beauties London has been raving about for eighteen months. "Every morning they torment me like this," she says, turning to Geoffrey, with a little pleasant confidential nod. Kneeling down by her, Dorothy lays her head upon Mona's knee, and bursts out crying afresh..
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He drops his eyes, and the low, sneering laugh she has learned to know and to hate so much comes again to his lips. "Well, mother?" says Geoffrey, when he has gained her room and received her kiss, which is not exactly all it ought to be after a five months' separation. He is her son, and of course she loves him, but—as she tells herself—there are some things hard to forgive. "It is the sweetest thing that could have happened," says Dorothy, enthusiastically. "Now Mona and you and I will be real sisters." "Is it? I always heard it was rather a jolly sort of little place, once you got into it—well.".
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