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He smiles, and, turning, kneels before her in mock humility that savors of very real homage. Taking her hand, he presses it to his lips. "Now listen, Mona," she says, in her low voice, that even now, when she is somewhat excited, shows no trace of heat or haste, "for I shall speak to you plainly. You must make up your mind to Lady Rodney. It is the common belief that mere birth will refine most people; but those who cling to that theory will surely find themselves mistaken. Something more is required: I mean the nobility of soul that Nature gives to the peasant as well as the peer. This, Lady Rodney lacks; and at heart, in sentiment, she is—at times—coarse. May I say what I like to you?" "Her feet beneath her petticoat.
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Early next morning the man set out to hunt, and as soon as he was out of sight his wives went up on top of the butte where he used to sit. There they dug a deep hole and covered it over with light sticks and grass and earth, so that it looked like the other soil near by, and placed the buffalo skull on the sticks which covered the hole. "But why?—why? Is it because you love me? Oh, Mona! If it is that! At times I have thought so, and yet again I have feared you do not love me as—as I love you." "I thought I did," says Geoffrey, waking slowly to a sense of the situation. "Well, neither should I!" says Mrs. Geoffrey, with conviction. "I should perfectly have hated it. But I should never have forgiven myself if he had gone away with the will.".
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