It is dreary waiting. No sleep comes to her eyes; she barely moves; the dogs slumber drowsily, and moan and start in their sleep, "fighting their battles o'er again," it may be, or anticipating future warfare. Slowly, ominously, the clock strikes twelve. Two hours have slipped into eternity; midnight is at hand!,
"You know what I mean," says Mona, reproachfully. "You needn't pretend you don't. And it is quite true that England does despise us.",
"You were right," said the young man. "This is surely the person who has hidden the buffalo.".
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