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"Well, as I say, I shall soon," returns Mona, brightening, "because Geoffrey has promised to teach me." "Yes, but he always doffed it; and he never put one on like ordinary mortals, he always donned it. You can't think what a difference it makes." All through the air the smell of heather, sweet and fragrant, reigns. Far down, miles away, the waves rush inland, glinting and glistening in the sunlight..
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"I do not wish to lay claim to anything," says Mona, throwing up her head with a little proud gesture,—"least of all to what does not by right belong to me. To be Mrs. Geoffrey is all I ask." It is an old song she chooses, and simple as old, and sweet as simple. I almost forget the words now, but I know it runs in this wise: Just now, for example, a pause occurring in the conversation, Mona, fastening her eyes upon her Grace's neck, says, with genuine admiration,— Mickey, as he grows desperate, grows bolder. He rises to speech..
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