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"Can you see your camp from here?" asked the Raven. "An' the biggest birds, an' as full o' corn as iver ye see, the rogues!" "Shall I write to her?" asks Mona, gently. "Say what you wish done.".
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Conrad
tells himself that all may yet be right betwixt him and his love. Mona pours out the tea—which is excellent—and puts in the cream—which is a thing to dream of—with a liberal hand. She smiles at Geoffrey across the sugar-bowl, and chatters to him over the big bowl of flowers that lies in the centre of the table. Not a hothouse bouquet faultlessly arranged, by any means, but a great, tender, happy, straggling bunch of flowers that seem to have fallen into their places of their own accord, regardless of coloring, and fill the room with their perfume. "I said so," murmurs Mona, meekly. Sinking into the cushioned embrasure of the window, Mona sits entranced, drinking in the beauty that is balm to her imaginative mind. The two dogs, with a heavy sigh, shake themselves, and then drop with a soft thud upon the ground at her feet,—her pretty arched feet that are half naked and white as snow: their blue slippers being all too loose for them..
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