"Poor soul! poor soul!" says Mona, brokenly; then she drops her hand, and the woman, turning again to the lifeless body, as though in the poor cold clay lies her only solace, lets her head fall forward upon it.,
His looks betray his wish. And Mona, stooping, very willingly bestows upon him one of the sweetest little kisses imaginable.,
"No, no," said Scarface, "we must not go there. Those are terrible birds; they will kill us.".
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