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"Then why don't you go back?" suggests Mona, simply.,"Leave the girl alone, and come here," shouts Ryan furiously to Carthy, who is still holding Mona captive. The blood is streaming from a large cut on his forehead received in his fall.,On the instant all is forgotten,—chagrin, shame, shoes and stockings, everything! Springing to her little naked feet, she goes to him, and, raising her hand, presses her handkerchief against the ugly stain.,"Yes; it was her that called last week," returns her amiable mother-in-law, laying an unmistakable stress upon the pronoun.,"You aren't angry, are you?" says Mona, now really contrite. "I couldn't help it, and it was like it, you know.","Very nice," she says, in answer to Violet's question, sinking into the chair that Miss Mansergh, by a small gesture, half languid, half kindly, has pushed towards her, and which is close to Violet's own. "I went up the avenue, and then out on the road for about half a mile.","How can you describe her, when you have not seen her?","No, no indeed. I give you my honor, no," says Geoffrey, very earnestly, feeling that Fate has been more than kind to him in that she has denied him a handle to his name.,In the house of Rodney there is mourning and woe. Horror has fallen upon it, and something that touches on disgrace. Lady Rodney, leaning back in her chair with her scented handkerchief pressed close to her eyes, sobs aloud and refuses to be comforted.,"It is, in fact, the real and original 'old, old story," says Geoffrey, innocently, smiling mildly at the leg of a distant table.,"Oh, yes, thank you," says Mona, who is both surprised and carried away by the other's unexpected eloquence.,A very charming vision clad in Oxford shirting, and with a great white hat tied beneath her rounded chin with blue ribbons,—something in the style of a Sir Joshua Reynolds,—emerges from among the low-lying firs at this moment. Having watched the (seemingly) light catastrophe from afar, and being apparently amused by it, she now gives way to unmistakable mirth and laughs aloud. When Mona laughs, she does it with all her heart, the correct method of suppressing all emotion, be it of joy or sorrow,—regarding it as a recreation permitted only to the vulgar,—being as yet unlearned by her. Therefore her expression of merriment rings gayly and unchecked through the old wood..