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There is a pause. Mona says nothing, but taking out the flower that has lain upon her bosom all night, pulls it to pieces petal by petal. And this is unlike Mona, because flowers are dear to her as sunshine is to them.,And now what remains to be told? But little, I think! For my gentle Mona has reached that haven where she would be!,"He won't go into the stable to-night," says Mona, comfortably.,Seeing further talk is useless, Mona slips her hand into Rodney's and leads him down the road.,He lays his hands lightly on her arm, yet his touch seems to burn through her gown into her very flesh. He stoops towards her.,"I should have written to you about it sooner," he says at last, apologetically, hoping half his mother's resentment arises from a sense of his own negligence, "but I felt you would object, and so put it off from day to day.","Of the purest," says Geoffrey.,CHAPTER XXXVIII.,"Oh—well—don't," interrupts Mrs. Geoffrey, hastily.,"Oh! at home, you know," says Mr. Rodney, quickly, discovering his mistake. For the moment he had forgotten his former declaration of poverty, or, at least, his consenting silence, when she had asked him about it.,The old woman outside called to them, "Friends, is it smoking in there now?",Then she rises upon her elbow, and notices how the light comes through the chinks of the shutters. It must be day indeed. The dreary night has fled affrighted; the stars hide their diminished rays. Surely.