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"Well, you didn't," says Mona. "Are you engaged to her?",To this name, given to her in such an unkindly spirit, Mona clings with singular pertinacity. Once when Nolly has called her by it in Lady Rodney's hearing, the latter raises her head, and a remorseful light kindles in her eyes; and when Mr. Darling has taken himself away she turns entreatingly to Mona, and, with a warm accession of coloring, says, earnestly,—,For some time they talk together, and then the duchess, fearing lest she may be keeping Mrs. Geoffrey from the common amusement of a ballroom, says, gently,—,"Neither.","No," he replied, "my heart was sad; I did not count the days. Since I left, the berries have grown and ripened.","Well, on the principle that fine feathers make fine birds, I suppose they do," acknowledges Geoffrey, reluctantly.,"Very," returns he, surprised. He has not thought of her as one versed in lore of any kind. "What poets do you prefer?",Geoffrey, too, raises his head and smiles, in sympathy with his wife's burst of merriment, as does Miss Darling, who stops her conversation with Sir Nicholas to listen to it.,"It is pretty, I think," she says. "The duke," with a grave look, "gave it to me just two years after my son was born.",One day, speaking of Sir Nicholas to Lady Rodney, she had—as was most natural—called him "Nicholas." But she had been cast back upon herself and humiliated to the earth by his mother's look of cold disapproval and the emphasis she had laid upon the "Sir" Nicholas when next speaking of him.,"How is this, grandmothers?" he said. "Here is a camp with plenty of fat meat and back fat hanging up to dry; why do you not give me some of that?",Mona starts violently, and draws back; shame and indignation cover her. Her breath comes in little gasps..