Mona, who has blushed rosy red at his kiss, is now beaming on her lover, and has drawn back her skirts to admit of his coming a little closer to her. He is not slow to avail himself of this invitation, and is now sitting with his arm thrown across the back of the wooden chair that holds Mona, and with eyes full of heartfelt gladness fixed upon her.,
"But why?" demands he, dense as men will be at times. Then, as she refuses to enlighten his ignorance, slowly the truth dawns upon him.,
One hand is resting lightly with a faintly theatrical touch upon the head of the lean greyhound, the other is raised to her forehead as though to shield her eyes from the bright sun..
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