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The air is full of death and desolation. It is cold and raw, and no vestige of vegetation is anywhere. In the distance, indeed, she can see some fir-trees that alone show green amidst a wilderness of brown, and are hailed with rapture by the eye, tired of the gray and sullen monotony. But except for these all is dull and unfruitful. "You may," says Mona, bracing herself for the ordeal. "Impossible!" drawing back from him. "How could I be ready? and, besides, I have said I will not marry you until a year goes by. How can I break my word?".
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Conrad
She is clad in a snowy gown of simple cotton, that sits loosely to her lissom figure yet fails to disguise the beauty of it. A white kerchief lies softly on her neck. She has pulled up her sleeves, so that her arms are bare,—her round, soft, naked arms that in themselves are a perfect picture. She is standing with her head well thrown back, and her hands—full of corn—lifted high in the air, as she cries aloud, "Cooee! Cooee!" in a clear musical voice. "Never!" says Lady Rodney, in a stony fashion. "I don't even know what you mean." "I am thinking that the man we saw before going into Kitty's cabin is the murderer!" she says, with a strong shudder. Like a flash of lightning, the brute springs forward, and, flinging himself upon Rodney, fastens his teeth upon the arm of the hand that holds the dagger..
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