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Mona, turning not to Nicholas or to Doatie or to Geoffrey but to Lady Rodney, throws the paper into her lap. "It shall be as you say," replied the Wolf. "It is yours to give." "This much," says Rodney, laughing again: "I am going to marry her, with her leave.".

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"Blame no one," says Mona. "But if there is anything in your own heart to condemn you, then pause before you go further in this matter of the Towers." She is a very little girl, quite half a head shorter than Mona, and, now that one can see her more plainly as she stands on the hearthrug, something more than commonly pretty. "It is worse," says Lady Rodney, in a stifled tone, coming out for a brief instant from behind the deluged handkerchief. "He has married a common farmer's niece!" "I am far from it, I regret to say; but time cures all things, and I trust to that and careful observation to reform me.".