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He moves as though to take up the pistol again; but Mona is beforehand with him, and, closing her fingers round it, holds it firmly. "I think I like no poet half so well. You mistake me," replies he, ashamed of his own surprise at her preference for his lordship beneath the calm purity of her eyes. "But—only—it seemed to me Longfellow would be more suited to you." "If I was quite sure I shouldn't be dreadfully in the way," says Geoffrey, turning to Mona, she being mistress of the ceremonies. "If there are any," says Geoffrey, with a twinkle in his eye..