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says Mr. Rodney, airing his bit of Dryden with conscious pride, in that it fits in so nicely. "At all events, you can't call it,,A pause.,Mona, horror-stricken, goes quickly over to her, and touches her lightly on the shoulder.,"There is a limit to everything,—even my patience," he says, not looking at his mother. "Mona is myself, and even from you, my mother, whom I love and reverence, I will not take a disparaging word of her.",Perhaps another reason for Mona's having found such favor in the eyes of "the biggest woman in our shire, sir," lies in the fact that she is in many ways so totally unlike all the other young women with whom the duchess is in the habit of associating. She is naive to an extraordinary degree, and says and does things that might appear outre in others, but are so much a part of Mona that it neither startles nor offends one when she gives way to them.,And, oh! she dances such a way,,"Forgive me that I showed surprise. Your uncle is more advanced than I had supposed. He is right. Why should a pig be esteemed less lovely than a stag? Nature in its entirety can know no blemish. The fault lies with us. We are creatures of habit: we have chosen to regard the innocent pig as a type of ugliness for generations, and now find it difficult to see any beauty in it.","How dare you find a defect in my appearance?" says Mona, with her old gay laugh. "You compel me to retaliate. Just look at yourself. Did you ever see such a regular pickle as you are?",She is sitting before a spinning-wheel, and is deftly drawing the wool through her fingers; brown little fingers they are, but none the less dear in his sight.,He drops his eyes, and the low, sneering laugh she has learned to know and to hate so much comes again to his lips.,"As you have refused to explain your presence here to me, you shall remain where you now are until help arrives," says Mona, with evident determination.,Following her, he takes both her hands, and, holding them closely, draws her back to her former position beside him..