Two o'clock! The song dies away, and Mona's brow contracts. So late!—the day is slipping from her, and as yet no word, no sign.,
"I should very much like to go," says Mona, gently, and with some eagerness. She has been sitting very quietly with her hands before her, hardly hearing what is passing around her,—lost, buried in thought.,
"And to think we all sat pretty nearly every evening within a yard or two of that blessed will, and never knew anything about it!" he says, at last, in a tone of unmitigated disgust..
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