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"I should never be afraid of him," returns Mona. "He has kind eyes. He is"—slowly and meditatively—"very like you." "Tell me again how it all happened," he says, laying his hands on her shoulders. And then she goes through it again, slowly, carefully. "Father," said Kŭt-o-yĭs´, "have you no arrows?".
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Conrad
But all is still. "He is a little difficult; but, on the whole, I think I like Sir Mark better than most men," says Violet, slowly. Each bank and root of mossy tree is studded with pale primroses that gleam like stars when the morning rises to dim their lustre. My lady's straw-bed spreads its white carpet here and there; the faint twitter of birds is in the air, with "liquid lapse of murmuring streams;" every leaf seems bursting into life, the air is keen but soft, the clouds rest lightly on a ground of spotless blue; the world is awake, and mad with youthful glee as "I wish you had never gone to Ireland!" says Lady Rodney, deeply depressed. "My heart misgave me when you went, though I never anticipated such a climax to my fears. What possessed you to fall in love with her?".
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