She leans back in her chair, and brings her fingers together, clasping them so closely that her very nails grow white. Her thin nostrils dilate a little, and her breath comes quickly, but no angry word escapes her. How can her lips give utterance to a speech that may wound the mother of the man she loves!,
"Let us kill our husband," said the other: "then we can go back to our relations and have a good time.",
"How could you laugh?" says Mona, reproachfully..
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