"Show Mr. Rodney in here, Bridget," says Mona unflinchingly, not looking at the distressed maid, or indeed at anything but the unobservant butter. And Bridget, with a sigh that strongly resembles the snort of a war-horse, ushers Mr. Rodney into the dairy.,
"This much," says Rodney, laughing again: "I am going to marry her, with her leave.",
Only a little withered bunch of heather, tied by a blade of grass! Nothing more!.
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