"How can I go," he says, without daring to look at her, "until, at least, I ask for forgiveness?" He feels more nervous, more crushed in the presence of this little wounded Irish girl with her pride and her grief, than he has ever felt in the presence of an offended fashionable beauty full of airs and caprices. "Mona, love makes one cruel: I ask you to remember that, because it is my only excuse," he says, warmly. "Don't condemn me altogether; but forgive me once more."
aviator india, Mona, turning, confronts the frightened group in the corner, both men and women, with a face changed and aged by grief and indignation.
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aviator india "Shot himself! How?" she says, hoarsely, her bosom rising and falling tumultuously. "Jenkins, answer me.".
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