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"Look at my leg," said Mīka´pi; "swollen and sore. See my wounded arm; I can hardly hold the bow. Far away is the home of my people, and my strength is gone. Surely here I must die, for I cannot walk, and I have no food." "But I wish it had been any one but Mona," says Geoffrey, still agitated. "I do feel with you," he says, hastily. "Do not believe otherwise." Then, as though impelled to it, he says in a low tone, though very distinctly, "I would gladly make your griefs mine, if you would make my joys yours.".
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"Out? Oh, ever so much," says Mrs. Geoffrey. "Mona must go," says Nicholas, quickly. "Lady Lilias made a point of it. You will go, Mona?" "Except that my hair is rolled up, and is too dark, isn't it? I have read about her, and I once saw a picture of Marguerite in the Gallery in Dublin, and it was very beautiful. I remember it brought tears to my eyes, and Aunt Anastasia said I was too fanciful to be happy. Her story is a very sad one, isn't it?" "Yes, exactly; you have it by heart; but what does it mean, and what are you staring at that wall for?" asks he, hopelessly, going to her side..
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