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Then Mona goes on quietly,—,"What a shame!" says Mona, angrily. Then she changes her note, and says, with a soft, low, mocking laugh, "How I pity you!",The answer is so downright, so unlike the usual "a little," or "oh, nothing to signify," or "just when there is nobody else," and so on, that Geoffrey is rather taken back.,"I should be all the more faithful: it is then you would feel your need of me," says Mona, simply. Then, as though puzzled, she goes on with a little sigh, "In time perhaps, I shall understand it all, and how other people feel, and—if it will please you, Geoffrey—I shall try to like the girl you call Doatie.","Somewhere beyond Bantry; you have heard of Bantry Bay?","Go!" she says, in a choked voice, and with a little passionate sob, pointing to the door. "You have done mischief enough." Her gesture is at once imperious and dignified. Then in a softer voice, that tells of sorrow, and with a deep sigh, "At least," she says, "I believed in your honor!",Pushing open the door very gently, she enters the room, the two dogs at her heels.,In the night, when all were sleeping, Napi and the young man arose in their right shapes and ate some of the meat.,Perhaps, could she only know how charmingly becoming this style of headdress is to her flower-like face, she would not have blushed at all.,Overcome by the heat of the fire, her luncheon, and the blessed certainty that for this one day at least no one is to be admitted to her presence, Lady Rodney has given herself up a willing victim to the child Somnus. Her book—that amiable assistant of all those that court siestas—has fallen to the ground. Her cap is somewhat awry. Her mouth is partly open, and a snore—gentle, indeed, but distinct and unmistakable—comes from her patrician throat.,The teapot, meanwhile, is calmly ignoring its rage, and is positively turning up its nose at it. It is a very proud old teapot, and is looking straight before it, in a very dignified fashion, at a martial row of cups and saucers that are drawn up in battle-array and are only waiting for the word of command to march upon the enemy.,Castles within the fire grow grand and tall, and then crumble into dust; castles in Mona's brain fare likewise. The shadows dance upon the walls; silently imperceptibly, the minutes flit away..