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"Because you were at home," replies Mona, quietly, though in deep distress. "Oh! hardly!" says Violet with a soft laugh and another blush. "How could you?" The young man answered, "I am mourning for my wife. She died some time ago. I am looking for her.".
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On a low bed, with his eyes fastened eagerly upon the door, lies Paul Rodney, the dews of death already on his face. His tone, his emphasis on the pronoun, is significant. "No doubt," she says scornfully. "The gentleman escaped, the man doesn't count! Perhaps, indeed, he has fulfilled his mission now he has shed his ignoble blood for his superior! Do you know it is partly such thoughts as these that have driven our people to desperation! One law for the poor, another for the rich! Friendship for the great, contempt for the needy." "What a strange name yours is!—Nolly," says Mona, presently..
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