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To make personal remarks, we all know, is essentially vulgar, is indeed a breach of the commonest show of good breeding; yet somehow Mrs. Geoffrey's tone does not touch on vulgarity, does not even belong to the outermost skirts of ill-breeding. She has an inborn gentleness of her own, that carries her safely over all social difficulties.,"But you couldn't fondle a pig on your knees," says Mona, who is growing every minute more and more mixed.,"Oh, Geoffrey, how could you do it?" she says, reproachfully, alluding to his marriage,—"you whom I have so loved. What would your poor father have thought had he lived to see this unhappy day? You must have been mad.","What! kiss the Australian? I'd see him—very well—that is—ahem! I certainly would not, you know," says Mr. Rodney.,"Bless me, Nolly, you are not going to be ill, are you?" says Geoffrey. "Such a burst of eloquence is rare.","I meant him for you," she says, in an ill-advised moment, addressing the girl who is bending over her couch assiduously and tenderly applying eau-de-cologne to her temples. It is just a little too much. Miss Mansergh fails to see the compliment in this remark. She draws her breath a little quickly, and as the color comes her temper goes.,"Oh! haven't you heard?" cries she. "Sure the country is ringing with it. Don't you know that they tried to shoot Mr. Moore last night?",She doesn't put any g into her "charming," which, however, is neither here or there, and is perhaps a shabby thing to take notice of at all.,"It is nearly over," he gasps, painfully. "Say good-by to me. Do not quite forget me, not utterly. Give me some small place in your memory, though—so unworthy.",The music, soft and almost mournful, echoes through the room; the feet keep time upon the oaken floor; weird-like the two forms move through the settled gloom.,"But why?" asks Mona, in amaze. "Didn't he wear one?","Why do you accuse me of such a desire?" asks he, paling beneath her indignation, and losing courage because of the unshed tears that are gleaming in her eyes..