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"Very well: show him in here," says Mona, very distinctly, going on with the printing of her butter with a courage that deserves credit. There is acrimony in her tone, but laughter in her eyes. While acknowledging a faint soreness at her heart she is still amused at his prompt, and therefore flattering, subjection.,The young men kept going out, as they always did, to try to bring the buffalo to the edge of the cliff, but somehow they would not jump over into the piskun. When they had come almost to the edge, they would turn off to one side or the other and run down the sloping hills and away over the prairie. So the people could get no food, and they began to be hungry, and at last to starve.,Dr. Bland, coming into the room, goes up to the bedside and feels his pulse, and tries to put something between his lips, but he refuses to take anything.,"Will not, you mean!","Oh, how pretty!" cries one of them from the shadow as though grieved the dance has come so quickly to an end "How lovely!","Do you really?" asks Mona, earnestly.,"My best beloved," he says, with passionate fondness, beneath his breath; but she hears him, and wonders vaguely but gladly at his tone, not understanding the rush of tenderness that almost overcomes him as he remembers how his mother—whom she has been striving with all her power to benefit—has been grossly maligning and misjudging her. Truly she is too good for those among whom her lot has been cast.,Her companion is singularly silent. Scarce one word has escaped him since she first laid her hand upon his arm, and now again dumbness, or some hidden feeling, seals his lips.,"I can't well get away before that, you know, as Wigley is a good way off. But I'll try all I know. And, after all," says Geoffrey, with a view to cheering her, "it isn't as bad as if I was ordered off somewhere for a week, is it?",In the death-chamber silence reigns. No one moves, their very breathing seems hushed. Paul Rodney's eyes are closed. No faintest movement disturbs the slumber into which he seems to have fallen.,"You don't know what you are talking about," says Doatie, vehemently. "Every one of those interminable half-hours will be a year off your life. Mr. Boer is obnoxious, but Florence is simply insupportable. Wait till she begins about the choir, and those hateful school-children, and the parish subsidies; then you perhaps will learn wisdom, and grow headaches if you have them not. Violet, what is it Jack calls Mr. Boer?","What does she mean?" asks he of his brother, who is distinctly amused. "Does she wish poor old Geoff had married a bad one? I confess myself at fault.".