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"Yes," says Mona, devoutly hoping he is going to say he means to refuse it. But such devout hope is wasted. Paul Rodney, standing where she has left him, watches her retreating figure until it is quite out of sight, and the last gleam of the crimson silk handkerchief is lost in the distance, with a curious expression upon his face. It is an odd mixture of envy, hatred, and admiration. If there is a man on earth he hates with cordial hatred, it is Geoffrey Rodney who at no time has taken the trouble to be even outwardly civil to him. And to think this peerless creature is his wife! For thus he designates Mona,—the Australian being a man who would be almost sure to call the woman he admired a "peerless creature." So runs on the kindly farmer, smitten to the heart that such things should be,—and done upon Rodney of all men. He walks round the young man, muttering his indignation in a low tone, while helping him with gentle care to remove his coat,—or at least what remains of that once goodly garment that had for parent Mr. Poole..
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Conrad
"It shall be helped," she says, in a low, but condensed tone. "For the future I forbid any one in my house to take it upon them to say whether I am in or out. I am the one to decide that. On what principle did you show them in here?" she asks, turning to Mona, her anger increasing as she remembers the rakish cap: "why did you not say, when you were unlucky enough to find yourself face to face with them, that I was not at home?" Behind her rises a tall shrub of an intense green, against which the soft whiteness of her satin gown gleams with a peculiar richness. Her gaze is fixed upon a distant planet that watches her solemnly through the window from its seat in the far-off heaven, "silent, as if it watch'd the sleeping earth." She is perhaps as near being angry with Geoffrey as she can be when one day he pooh-poohs this charitable thought and gives it as his belief that worry had nothing to do with it, and that his mother behaved uncommonly badly all through, and that sheer obstinacy and bad temper was the cause of the whole matter. "What are you doing here, Tim?" says Mona, bravely, calmly, "at this hour, and with—yes, do not seek to hide it from me—a gun! And you too, Carthy," peering into the darkness to where another man, less plucky than Ryan lies concealed. "Ah! you may well wish to shade your face, since it is evil you have in your heart this night.".
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