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"Yet I feel sure—I know," she says, tremulously, "you are hiding something from me. Why do you not look at me when you answer my questions?","Why not? it just suits him: 'A little, round, fat, oily man of——'","Do you know it never occurred to me until this afternoon?" she says, simply; "but now I think—I may be mistaken, but I really do think he fancies himself in love with me. A very silly fancy, of course.","What have I said?" she asks, half plaintively. "You laugh, yet I did not mean to be funny. Tell me what I said.","Then they ought to be ashamed of themselves," says Mona, with much indignation. "Months indeed!","Not always," sobs Doatie. "I know how it will be. We shall be separated,—torn asunder, and then after a while they will make me marry somebody else; and in a weak moment I shall do it! And then I shall be utterly wretched for ever and ever.","Well, then, sure you know I would," confesses she, shyly but honestly. Whereupon rapture ensues that lasts for a full minute.,"It was Tim Ryan," returns Mona, wearily, feeling unequal to a long story just at present.,Some time elapses before he speaks again, and Mona is almost hoping he may have fallen into a quiet slumber, when he opens his eyes and says, regretfully,—,"Something," replies he, with a short laugh. "I shall at least see you again on the 19th.",Presently her cry is answered. A thick cloud of pigeons—brown and white and bronze and gray—come wheeling into sight from behind the old house, and tumble down upon her in a reckless fashion. They perch upon her head, her shoulders, her white soft arms, even her hands, and one, more adventurous than the rest, has even tried to find a slippery resting-place upon her bosom.,"Your foot is plainly 'on your native heath,'" says Nolly, "though your name may not be 'McGregor.' What on earth were you saying to that old woman for the last four hours?".