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"It was true," says Mona: "I was writing letters for Geoffrey.",He pauses. In the darkness a loving, clinging hand has again crept into his, full of sweet entreaty, and by a gentle pressure has reduced him to calmness.,Of that mysterious instrument, the soul,,"If you say all that," he says, "there will be wigs on the green: that's Irish, isn't it? or something like it, and very well applied too. The first part of your speech sounded like Toole or Brough, I'm not sure which.",This had widened the breach more than all the rest, though Nicholas himself, being quite fascinated by her, tries earnestly to make her happy and at home with him.,"How dare you find a defect in my appearance?" says Mona, with her old gay laugh. "You compel me to retaliate. Just look at yourself. Did you ever see such a regular pickle as you are?","Nonsense! Would you have me believe you are afraid of her?","Why, indeed, unless you wished to possess yourself of something in the old room?","That is true," says Mona; "but it does not apply to me; and it is for you only I fear. Let me say just this: I have thought it all over; there were many hours in which to think, because I could not sleep——",and so on.,,Then Mona says, in a trembling voice and rather disconnectedly, because of her emotion, "Be quite sure you shall be—buried—where all the other baronets of Rodney lie at rest.".