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"Dear Lady Rodney, you are really too kind," she says, in a tone soft and measured as usual, but without the sweetness. In her heart there is something that amounts as nearly to indignant anger as so thoroughly well-bred and well regulated a girl can feel. "You are better, I think," she says, calmly, without any settled foundation for the thought; and then she lays down the perfume-bottle, takes up her handkerchief, and, with a last unimportant word or two, walks out of the room. Then Geoffrey offers Mona his hand, and leads her to the centre of the polished floor. There they salute each other in a rather Grandisonian fashion, and then separate. "You never saw an angel, so you can't say," says Mona, still sadly severe. "And I am unhappy. How will your mother, Mrs. Rodney, like your marrying me, when you might marry so many other people,—that Miss Mansergh, for instance?".
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"You must give me another dance, Mrs. Rodney, before your card is quite full," says the duke, smiling. "If, indeed, I am yet in time." "I think Geoffrey owes those Divinity boys more than he can ever pay," says the duchess, very prettily. "You must come and see me soon, child. I am an old woman, and seldom stir from home, except when I am positively ordered out by Malcom, as I was to-night. Come next Thursday. There are some charming trifles at the old Court that may amuse you, though I may fail to do so." "Is it? I always heard it was rather a jolly sort of little place, once you got into it—well." "Oh, no, I'm not clever," says Mona; "but"—nervously and with downcast eyes, addressing Geoffrey—"I might perhaps be able to make you a little more comfortable.".
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