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"So I thought," exclaims Mona, with a cheerful nod, that under other circumstances should be aggravating, so full of content it is. "At first I fea—I thought you were rich, but afterwards I guessed it was your brothers' ground you were shooting over. And Bridget told me, too. She said you could not be well off, you had so many brothers. But I like you all the better for that," says Mona, in a tone that actually savors of protection, slipping her little brown hand through his arm in a kindly, friendly, lovable fashion. His passion carries Mona along with it. Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.".
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Conrad
"No, no," she says, drawing herself up and speaking with a touch of pride that sits very sweetly on her; "I beg you will say nothing. Mere words could not cure the wound you have inflicted." "Nevertheless, close the curtains, Geoffrey, and ask Lady Rodney if she would not like tea now," says Violet, sotto voce. "Poor thing!" says Mona, sympathetically, which sympathy, by the by, is utterly misplaced, as Lady Rodney thought her husband, if anything, an old bore, and three months after his death confessed to herself that she was very glad he was no more. THE BUFFALO STONE.
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