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"Yet I think you should have told me," she whispers, as a last fading censure. "Do you know you have made me very unhappy?" "Does he really?" asks Mona, with eyes wide open. "I am sure if I ever meet your brother Nick I shall be dreadfully afraid of him." "It doesn't sound right," says Mona, shaking her head..

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A very charming vision clad in Oxford shirting, and with a great white hat tied beneath her rounded chin with blue ribbons,—something in the style of a Sir Joshua Reynolds,—emerges from among the low-lying firs at this moment. Having watched the (seemingly) light catastrophe from afar, and being apparently amused by it, she now gives way to unmistakable mirth and laughs aloud. When Mona laughs, she does it with all her heart, the correct method of suppressing all emotion, be it of joy or sorrow,—regarding it as a recreation permitted only to the vulgar,—being as yet unlearned by her. Therefore her expression of merriment rings gayly and unchecked through the old wood. "Geoffrey? Oh, no. It was he who brought me. He bade me hasten lest you should even imagine me careless about coming. And—and—he desired me to say how he regrets the harsh words he uttered and the harsher thoughts he may have entertained towards you. Forgive him, I implore you, and die in peace with him and all men." "Now, perhaps, you will explain why you are here?" says Mrs. Geoffrey, speaking as sternly as her soft voice will permit. "How did you get in?" "I never saw the easy-chair I could compare with this," he says, as though to himself, his voice full of truth..