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"Tell me why you hesitated in your speech a while ago. Talking of Rodney's giving you the will, you said he offered to give it you if—if——What did the 'if' mean?" "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." Having assured herself that the panel selected is the one she requires, she presses her fingers steadily against the upper corner on the side farthest from the fire. Expectation lies in every line of her face, yet she is doomed to disappointment. No result attends her nervous pressure, but distinct defeat. The panel is inexorable. Nothing daunted, she moves her hand lower down, and tries again. Again failure crushes her; after which she makes one last attempt, and, touching the very uppermost corner, presses hard..
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Conrad
"How tender! how touching!" she says, with a pensive smile, raising her luminous eyes to Geoffrey: whether it is the snail, or the leaf, or the slime, that is tender and touching, nobody knows; and nobody dares ask, lest he shall betray his ignorance. Nolly, I regret to say, gives way to emotion of a frivolous kind, and to cover it blows his nose sonorously. Whereupon Geoffrey, who is super-naturally grave, asks Lady Lilias if she will walk with him as far as the grotto. "But you didn't cut your throat, after all," says Mona, with a wicked little grimace. "Oh, indeed!" says Mona; and then, with downcast eyes, "but I don't know, because you never told me before." Comes furrowing all the Orient into gold.".
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