"To Bantry," says Mona, growing white again,—"to-night! Oh, do you want to kill me and yourself?"
dear-chart, "So you think now; but by and by you will find the pressure too great, and you will go with the tide. If I were to work for years and years, I could scarcely at the end achieve a position fit to offer you. And I am thirty-two, remember,—not a boy beginning life, with all the world and time before him,—and you are only twenty. By what right should I sacrifice your youth, your prospects? Some other man, some one more fortunate, may perhaps——"
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dear-chart
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dear-chart "Ah!" says Mona, springing to her feet, and turning to the door, as though to summon aid; but he stops her by a gesture..
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