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"I do not wish to lay claim to anything," says Mona, throwing up her head with a little proud gesture,—"least of all to what does not by right belong to me. To be Mrs. Geoffrey is all I ask." "They do look nice," says Mona, "and I am hungry. If we won't be a great trouble to you, Betty," with graceful Hesitation, "I think we should like some." "What is it?" she says, fearfully, and then, "Your coat is wet—I feel it. Oh Geoffrey, look at your shirt. It is blood!" Her tone is full of horror. "What have they done to you?" she says, pitifully. "You are hurt, wounded!".
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"It means death to me," replies he, in a low tone. "It means that I shall lose you." "He must adore you; and no wonder, too," says Mr. Darling, so emphatically that every one smiles, and Jack, clapping him on the back, says,— "Do you mean they want to shoot me?" says Maxwell, in a hurried tone. "I hope she has, poor soul: she will want it," says Geoffrey, feelingly; and then he falls to whistling the "Two Obadiahs" softly, yet with a relish, beneath his breath..
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