"Miss Mona, come in; the tay will be cold, an' the rashers all spoiled, an' the masther's callin' for ye.",
Just at this moment he is coming down through brake and furze, past tangling blackberry-bushes that are throwing out leaves of brilliant crimson and softest yellow, and over rustling leaves, towards the farm that holds his divinity.,
"Now, once for all, Mona," interrupts he, with determination, "I strictly forbid you ever to go to Ryan's cottage again.".
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