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Envious streaks,Her eyes fill with tears.,"Well, I wasn't exactly born so," explains Mr. Darling, frankly; "Oliver is my name. I rather fancy my own name, do you know; it is uncommon, at all events. One don't hear it called round every corner, and it reminds one of that 'bold bad man' the Protector. But they shouldn't have left out the Cromwell. That would have been a finishing stroke. To hear one's self announced as Oliver Cromwell Darling in a public room would have been as good as a small fortune.","You have kept your promise," returns he, solemnly, pressing her face still closer against his chest.,An old crone is sitting over a turf fire that glows and burns dimly in its subdued fashion. Hanging over it is a three-legged pot, in which boil the "praties" for the "boys'" dinners, who will be coming home presently from their work.,Those who wish to know something about how the people lived who told these stories will find their ways of life described in the last chapter of this book.,"She is decidedly good to look at, at all events," says Nicholas, shifting ground. "Don't you think so, Violet?",At this Sir Nicholas gives way and laughs out loud, whereon Mona laughs too, though she reddens slightly, and says, "Well, of course the piano will do, though the fiddle is best of all.",As he reaches the broad stream that divides him from the land he would reach, he pauses and tries to think of any decent excuse that may enable him to walk with a bold front up to the cottage door. But no such excuse presents itself. Memory proves false. It refuses to assist him. He is almost in despair.,"But your uncle's death made it all right, didn't it?",The door at the farthest end of the room has been opened, and two people who are as yet invisible stand upon the threshold, too surprised to advance, too enthralled, indeed, by the sight before them to do so.,"I can give you the size of my waist and my shoulders, and my length," says Mona, thoughtfully, yet with a touch of inspiration..