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"Very," returns he, surprised. He has not thought of her as one versed in lore of any kind. "What poets do you prefer?",But this word comes not. In vain does the angry urn hiss. The teapot holds aloft its haughty nose for naught. The cups and saucers range themselves in military order all for nothing. Lady Rodney is dissolved in tears.,And sitteth in a Sabbath of still rest;,"I am a stranger; I know nothing," she says again, hardly knowing what to say, and moving a little as though she would depart.,"I do hope she isn't the under-housemaid," said Jack, moodily. "It has grown so awfully common. Three fellows this year married under-housemaids, and people are tired of it now; one can't keep up the excitement always. Anything new might create a diversion in his favor, but he's done for if he has married another under-housemaid.","Yes, exactly; you have it by heart; but what does it mean, and what are you staring at that wall for?" asks he, hopelessly, going to her side.,"Tin,—money," explains he.,Silence. Mona taps the mound beside her with impatient fingers, her mind being evidently great with thought.,"It is," replies he, absently. Then, below his breath, "and well worth fighting for.","Not even to you," very gravely. There is reproof in her tone. They are standing somewhat apart, and her eyes have been turned from him. Now, as she says this, she changes her position slightly, and looks at him very earnestly. From the distant ballroom the sound of the dying music comes sadly, sweetly; a weeping fountain in a corner mourns bitterly, as it seems to Mona, tear by tear, perhaps for some lost nymph.,"No; only twelve months,"—hastily; "say no more now: my mind is quite made up.",Here her eyes fall upon Ryan's motionless figure, and a shudder passes over her..