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"Geoffrey, will you take me to him?" says Mona, rousing herself. "You say well," he replied; "I give those women to the punishing society. They know what to do." "Oh, I dare say," Nicholas, ironically. "You get out!".
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Conrad
"I wonder what kind of songs you like best," says Mona, dreamily, letting her fingers run noiselessly over the keys of the Collard. "If you are like me, you like sad ones." Spice and Allspice are having a real good time opposite her bedroom fire, and, though perhaps inwardly astonished at their promotion from a distant kennel to the sleeping-apartment of their fair mistress, are far too well-bred to betray any vulgar exaltation at the fact. "What a day we're avin'," says Mr. Darling, disdaining to notice this puerile remark. "It's been pouring since early dawn. I feel right down cheap,—very nearly as depressed as when last night Nicholas stuck me down to dance with the Æsthetic." TO THE READER.
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