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"Lie down: you will hurt yourself again," she says, trying gently to induce him to return to his former recumbent position; but he resists her. "Yes; where is Mona?" says Jack, looking up from the cup she has just given him. "Yes, I do," says Mona, truthfully. "Just now, at least. Perhaps"—sadly—"when I am your age I sha'n't.".
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"'7—4,'" murmurs she, absently, still staring intently at the wall. She sighs. There is pathos and sweetness and tenderness in every line of her face, and much sadness. Her lips are slightly parted, "her eyes are homes of silent prayer." Paul, watching her, feels as though he is in the presence of some gentle saint, sent for a space to comfort sinful earth. "And what has brought you?" demands she, not rudely or quickly, but as though desirous of obtaining information on a subject that puzzles her. "I wonder you are not afraid of going too far," he puts in, warningly, his dark eyes flashing..
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