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"You are," says Mona, eagerly. "Do you think," tears gathering in her eyes, "that I could be happy when those I love are reduced to despair?" "Perhaps you may not know it," says he, "but you are simply perfection!" "Take me down," says Mona, wearily, turning to her lover, as the last faint ring of the horse's feet dies out on the breeze..
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"And do say it is like it," says Mona, entreatingly. "What lovely creatures!" says Geoffrey, who has a passion for animals: they seem to acknowledge him as a friend. As Mona looses them from their den, they go to him, and, sniffing round him, at last open their great jaws into a satisfied yawn, and, raising themselves, rest their paws upon his breast and rub their faces contentedly against his. So determined is her aspect that Geoffrey shows the white feather, and, crying "mea culpa," beats a hasty retreat. "'Bonnie Lesley:' the poet says of her what I think of you.".
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