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"No, no," she answered, trying to pull herself away. "I want you to see my own work," she says, going up markedly to Mona. "I am glad my garden has pleased you. I could see by your eyes how well you appreciated it. To see the beautiful in everything, that is the only true religion." She smiles her careful absent smile again as she says this, and gazes earnestly at Mona. Perhaps, being true to her religion, she is noting "the beautiful" in her Irish guest. At this they both laugh heartily, and Mona returns no more to the lachrymose mood that has possessed her for the last five minutes..
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Conrad
All day long, and often far into the night, these two sat on a near-by hill and wailed, and their mourning was sad. "Well," said the old man, "up here on Two Medicine Lodge Creek there are some people—up where the piskun is, you know." "Well, belief, however strong, goes a short way sometimes. An uncommon short way with us." "Not even to you," very gravely. There is reproof in her tone. They are standing somewhat apart, and her eyes have been turned from him. Now, as she says this, she changes her position slightly, and looks at him very earnestly. From the distant ballroom the sound of the dying music comes sadly, sweetly; a weeping fountain in a corner mourns bitterly, as it seems to Mona, tear by tear, perhaps for some lost nymph..
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