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"It was Tim Ryan," returns Mona, wearily, feeling unequal to a long story just at present. "That's me," says Mona, glancing at him archly from under her long lashes. "Blow me to atoms, perhaps, or into some region unknown," says he, recklessly. "A good thing, too. Is life so sweet a possession that one need quail before the thought of resigning it?".
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Conrad
"Does he mean going himself?" says Nicholas, idly. "He is here to-day, I know, but one never knows where he may be to-morrow, he is so erratic." "Like that? Not a bit of it," says Geoffrey, who had given her two kisses for her one: "you mustn't expect it. She isn't in the least like that. She will meet you probably as though she saw you yesterday, and say, 'How d'ye do? I'm afraid you have had a very long and cold drive.' And then you will say——" "Law, no, sir," says the old man, with a loud and hearty laugh. "I think if ye could see the counthry girls round here, an' compare 'em with my Mona, you'd see that for yerself. She's as fine as the queen to them. Her mother, you see, was the parson's daughter down here; tiptop she was, and purty as a fairy, but mighty delicate; looked as if a march wind would blow her into heaven. Dan—he was a brother of mine, an' a solicitor in Dublin. You've been there, belike?" "The cold chaste moon, the queen of heaven's bright isles,.
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