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"It is pretty, I think," she says. "The duke," with a grave look, "gave it to me just two years after my son was born." "No," says Mona, shaking her head. "Not—not to-night. I shall soon." "I think I should like your mother," she says, naively and very sweetly, lifting her eyes steadily to his. "She is handsome, of course; and is she good as she is beautiful?".
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Conrad
Mona is down at the gate waiting for him, evidently brimful of information. "Why do you accuse me of such a desire?" asks he, paling beneath her indignation, and losing courage because of the unshed tears that are gleaming in her eyes. "Not until two?" says Mona, growing miserable again. "Stuff!" says Mr. Rodney; "that is only piling Ossa upon Pelion: it will bring you no nearer the clouds. Say you will go back to the old arrangement and marry me next month, or at least the month after.".
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