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"You've been reading novels," says Rodney, contemptuously.,"My dear fellow, you have overworked your brain," he says, ironically: "You don't understand me. I am not tired of her. I shall never cease to bless the day I saw her,"—this with great earnestness,—"but you say I have married the handsomest woman in England, and she is not English at all.","Some other day you can do that. Now go," says Mona, imperiously, waving her hand.,He turns to her again.,"What are ye talkin' about? Get out, ye spalpeen," says the woman, with an outward show of anger, but a warning frown meant for the man alone. "Let her do as she likes. Is it spakin' of fear ye are to Dan Scully's daughter?",He actually laughs, though faintly, and Mona looks up. Perhaps he has forced himself to this vague touch of merriment (that is even sadder than tears) just to please and rouse her from her despondency,—because the laugh dies almost as it is born, and an additional pallor covers his lips in its stead.,Her face betrays more than she knows.,"To what part of Ireland?","No one blames you," says Mona; "yet it is hard that Nicholas should be made unhappy.","He is our landlord," says Mona, calmly, but with uplifted brows, stopping short in the middle of the road to regard him with astonishment.,Just now, for example, a pause occurring in the conversation, Mona, fastening her eyes upon her Grace's neck, says, with genuine admiration,—,"No," said Kŭt-o-yĭs´. "You are saying what is not true, and I am going to kill you now.".