"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.,
Silence. Mona taps the mound beside her with impatient fingers, her mind being evidently great with thought.,
"Miss Mona, come in; the tay will be cold, an' the rashers all spoiled, an' the masther's callin' for ye.".
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