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Geoffrey, who would be at any moment as polite to a dairymaid as to a duchess, follows her, and, much to her discomfort,—though she is too civil to say so,—helps her to lay the table. He even insists on filling a dish with the potatoes, and having severely burned his fingers, and having nobly suppressed all appearance of pain,—beyond the dropping of two or three of the esculent roots upon the ground,—brings them in triumph to the spot where Mona is sitting.,Mona makes no reply.,"Eh?" says Geoffrey.,"No," answered the man, "I am afraid. Who could look at such dreadful things and live?","Is there? Then I shall certainly return for it," says Geoffrey, who is too much of a gentleman to pretend to understand all her words seem to imply. "It is really no journey from this to England.","Why, Jack and Violet, of course. They've had it out. They are engaged!","But why should night produce melancholy?" says Nicholas, dreamily. "It is but a reflection of the greater light, after all. What does Richter call it? 'The great shadow and profile of day.' It is our own morbid fancies that make us dread it.","No; I shall have him with me: but, hush! It is quite a secret," placing her finger on her lips.,"It almost amounts to it," says Nicholas, with a frown.,"Very different," says Rodney.,The hour is enchanting, the air almost mild; and every one feels half aggrieved when the carriage, entering the lodge-gates, bears them swiftly towards the massive entrance that will lead them into the house and out of the cold.,"I am sure we shall all be very glad," she says, faintly, feeling herself bound to make some remark..