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CHAPTER XVII. "Nothing on earth shall bring me to say that," says Mona, solemnly. "Nothing!" Soon some people came to meet them and said, "What is this? Why are you mourning? Where is your husband?".
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Still she hesitates, though betraying no vulgar awkwardness or silly mauvaise honte. Indeed, the only sign of emotion she does show is a soft slow blush, that, mounting quickly, tips even her little ears with pink. "What has he done?" asks Geoffrey, somewhat bewildered and greatly distressed at her apparent grief. "But surely there must be moments when——" Mr. Rodney, basely forsaking the donkey, returns to his mutton. "There must be a dressmaker in Dublin," he says, "and we could write to her. Don't you know one?".
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