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"I don't suppose any one will take the slightest notice of him," says Violet: "that is one comfort." "I should," says Geoffrey, pressing her hands. "You would always be to me the best and truest woman alive. But—but I shouldn't have liked it." "It was true," says Mona: "I was writing letters for Geoffrey.".
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Conrad
quotes Geoffrey, lightly, "Are not these three reasons sufficient? If not, I could tell you a score of others. I may bring her down to see you?" "I may as well talk while I can: soon you will not be able to hear me, when the grass is growing over me," replies he, recklessly. "It was hardly worth my while to deliver you up that will, was it? Is not Fate ironical? Now it is all as it was before I came upon the scene, and Nicholas has the title without dispute. I wish we had been better friends,—he at least was civil to me,—but I was reared with hatred in my heart towards all the Rodneys; I was taught to despise and fear them as my natural enemies, from my cradle." "I'm ready now, miss, if you are," says Mickey from the background, with the utmost bonhommie, and in a tone that implies he is quite willing not to be ready, if it so pleases her, for another five minutes or so, or even, if necessary, to efface himself altogether. He is a stalwart young Hibernian, with rough hair and an honest face, and gray eyes, merry and cunning, and so many freckles that he looks like a turkey-egg. "N—ot very," says Doatie, dolefully..
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