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Alas! alas! what foul deed may even now be doing while she stands here powerless to avert it,—her efforts all in vain! How richly shines the sweet heaven, studded with its stars! how cool, how fragrant, is the breeze! How the tiny wavelets move and sparkle in the glorious bay below. How fair a world it is to hold such depths of sin! Why should not rain and storms and howling tempest mark a night so—— "You can waltz?" "What is it you would say?" exclaims Mona, threatingly, turning towards him a lovely face she vainly tries to clothe with anger..
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"You dance, of course," says Lady Rodney, turning to Mona, a little ashamed, perhaps, of her late rudeness. In the house of Rodney there is mourning and woe. Horror has fallen upon it, and something that touches on disgrace. Lady Rodney, leaning back in her chair with her scented handkerchief pressed close to her eyes, sobs aloud and refuses to be comforted. "Very well. I shall not ask you to break it. But I shall stay on here. And if," says this artful young man, in a purposely doleful tone, "anything should happen, it will——" "But it is early yet, Mickey, isn't it?" says Mona..
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