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Jack is laughing over a letter written by one of the fellows in India; all are deep in their own correspondence.,They are all standing in a sort of anteroom, curtained off, but only partly concealed from the ballroom. Young Lady Chetwoode, who, as I have said, is a special pet with the duchess, is present, with Sir Guy and one or two others.,"But you told me no maiden aunt had ever come to your assistance," goes on Mona, remorselessly.,"Do," says the duchess.,"No, indeed," says Mona, laughing. "But it surely wasn't English, was it? That is not the way everybody talks, surely.","But you like Lady Rodney?" says Mona, in a puzzled tone.,"Yet what does Feltham say? 'He that hopes too much shall deceive himself at last' Your medicine is dangerous, darling. It will kill you in the end. Just think, Dorothy, how could you live on five hundred a year!",At this Mona lifts her head, and turns upon him eyes full of the tenderest love and trust. She would have dearly liked to go to him, and place her arms round his neck, and thank him with a fond caress for this dear speech, but some innate sense of breeding restrains her.,When he awoke the sun was in the middle of the sky. His leg and arm were swollen and pained him, yet he started to go home, and for a time struggled onward; but at last, tired and discouraged, he sat down.,"Well, we thought you would know," says Lady Rodney, speaking for the first time.,Then she closed the smoke hole. The smoke began to fill the top of the lodge. It settled lower and lower. Broken Bow was afraid.,"Ah! so Geoffrey says," returns she, with a perfectly unembarrassed and pleased little laugh, while a great gleam of tender love comes into her eyes as she makes mention of her husband's name. "But I really am not you know.".