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Thus half an hour goes by. Then Geoffrey, growing uneasy, raises his head and looks at Mona. From where he sits the bed is hidden from him, but he can see that she is still kneeling beside it, her hand in Rodney's, her face hidden in the bedclothes.,"I think I like no poet half so well. You mistake me," replies he, ashamed of his own surprise at her preference for his lordship beneath the calm purity of her eyes. "But—only—it seemed to me Longfellow would be more suited to you.","He looked as if he wanted to eat you; and I'm sure I don't wonder at it," says Geoffrey, making the addition to his speech in a lower key.,"Many things, I dare say," she says, nervously, turning from him.,"He says he knows nothing about any will.","Do you admire our hair? And we are all so heartily tired of it," says the duchess. "Well, tell me more about your own land. Are the women all like you? In style, I mean. I have seen a few, of course, but not enough to describe a whole.","By Jove, you know, you've about done it," he says, bestowing upon Geoffrey's shoulder a friendly pat that rather takes the breath out of that young man's body. "Gave you credit for more common sense. Why, such a proceeding as this is downright folly. You are bound to pay for your fun, you know, sooner or later.","You may compel him to murder you," she says, feverishly, "or, in your present mood, you may murder him. No, you shall not stir from this to-night.","Oh, Mona, do go—do," entreats Doatie, who is in tears. "Poor, poor fellow! I wish now I had not been so rude to him.",It is ten days later. The air is growing brisker, the flowers bear no new buds. More leaves are falling on the woodland paths, and the trees are throwing out their last bright autumn tints of red and brown and richest orange, that tell all too plainly of the death that lies before them.,"You will get murdered," says his mother, quite as indolently, half opening her eyes, which are gray as Geoffrey's own. "They always kill people, with things they call pikes, or burn them out of house and home, over there, without either rhyme or reason.","Thanks!" returns he, with an ironical laugh. "How excellently your tone agrees with your words?".