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"No; I am quite warm," says Mona, in a low, sad tone. Rodney's breath is coming more quickly, and he is conscious of a desire to stop and pull himself together—if only for a minute—before bracing himself for a second effort. But to Mona, with her fresh and perfect health, and lithe and lissom body, and all the rich young blood that surges upward in her veins, excitement serves but to make her more elastic; and with her mind strung to its highest pitch, and her hot Irish blood aflame, she runs easily onward, until at length the road is reached that is her goal. "Is that all?" says Violet, in a tone of surprise certainly, but as certainly in one of relief..
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"I mean, some of them dress uncommon badly," he says, with much mendacity and more bad grammar. The teapot, meanwhile, is calmly ignoring its rage, and is positively turning up its nose at it. It is a very proud old teapot, and is looking straight before it, in a very dignified fashion, at a martial row of cups and saucers that are drawn up in battle-array and are only waiting for the word of command to march upon the enemy. "I hardly think our dance is ended yet, Mrs. Rodney," says the Australian, defiantly, coming leisurely forward, his eyes bent somewhat insolently upon Geoffrey. "Thank you," says Lady Rodney, coldly, letting her lids fall over her eyes..
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