"Good gracious! he can't mean that he is tired of her already," exclaims Mr. Darling, in an audible aside. "That would be too much even for our times.",
"Oh, do take care!" cries Mona, in an agony: "it is loaded. If you throw it about in that rough fashion, it will certainly go off and do you some injury.",
"What a partisan you do make!" says Lady Rodney, with a faint laugh. "Perhaps after all we should consider Ireland the end and aim of all things. I dare say when you come back you will be more Irish than the Irish."
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"Yes, and——",
"I am indeed dear to you, I think," says Mona, softly and thankfully, growing a little pale through the intensity of her emotion.,
Again she has grown silent, as though oppressed with thought; and he too is mute, but all his mind is crowded with glad anticipations of what the near future is to give him. He has no regrets, no fears. At length, struck by her persistent taciturnity, he says, "What is it, Mona?",
"No, she was not in the lodge, but two women were approaching as I left it. I think they were the girl and her mother."
Some one is coming quickly towards them. Rodney, dropping Mona's hand, looks hurriedly round, only to see Lady Rodney approaching.
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Developer Response,
"I was not determined: you mistake me," exclaims Mona, miserably. "I simply hadn't a headache: I never had one in my life,—and I shouldn't know how to get one!"
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epoxb-Wong,
It’s a Quan-Yuan
He smiles, and, turning, kneels before her in mock humility that savors of very real homage. Taking her hand, he presses it to his lips.
z8hmn-Xu,
Bingbing-Li
A long time ago there was a man who had two wives. They were not good women; they did not look after their home nor try to keep things comfortable there. If the man brought in plenty of buffalo cow skins they did not tan them well, and often when he came home at night, hungry and tired after his hunting, he had no food, for these women would be away from the lodge, visiting their relations and having a good time.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>The postman himself is an institution in the village, being of an unknown age, in fact, the real and original oldest inhabitant, and still with no signs of coming dissolution about him, thereby carrying out Dicken's theory that a dead post-boy or a dead donkey is a thing yet to be seen. He is a hoary-headed old person, decrepit and garrulous, with only one leg worth speaking about, and an ear trumpet. This last is merely for show, as once old Jacob is set fairly talking, no human power could get in a word from any one else.
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