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Once, a long time ago, the antelope and the deer happened to meet on the prairie. They spoke together, giving each other the news, each telling what he had seen and done. After they had talked for a time the antelope told the deer how fast he could run, and the deer said that he could run fast too, and before long each began to say that he could run faster than the other. So they agreed that they would have a race to decide which could run the faster, and on this race they bet their galls. When they started, the antelope ran ahead of the deer from the very start and won the race and so took the deer's gall.,

At this she glances with scorn upon the quakerish and somewhat quaint gray gown in which she is clothed, and in which she is looking far sweeter than she knows, for in her face lie "love enshrined and sweet attractive grace.",

At this his honor requests Mickey to step into the hall, and with his own hands administers to him a glass of whiskey, which mightily pleases the son of Erin, though he plainly feels it his duty to make a face at it as he swallows it off neat. And then Geoffrey sallies forth and goes for the promised covey, followed closely by the excited Mickey, and, having made account of most of them, presses backsheesh into the hands of his informant, and sends him home rejoicing.,

"Violet, please do not talk like that; I forbid it," says Lady Rodney, in a horrified tone. "Nothing could make me think well of anything connected with this—this odious girl; and when you speak like that you quite upset me. You will be having your name put in that horrid list of perverts in the 'Whitehall Review' if you don't take care."

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"In Sydney. In Paul Rodney's employ. In his very house.",

"I do. More than I can express. I see you," retorts he; at which they both give way to merriment, causing Geoffrey, who is walking with Lady Lilias, to dodge behind her back and bestow upon them an annihilating glance that Nolly afterwards describes as a "lurid glare.",

"I don't think you can make an inquiry about the bygone days of chivalry," she says, somewhat stiffly, and, having shaken the hand of her bewildered friend, and pecked gently at her cheek, she sails out of the room, disheartened, and wounded in spirit.,

"Last week, Mona, you gave me your promise to marry me before Christmas; can you break it now? Do you know what an old writer says? 'Thou oughtest to be nice even to superstition in keeping thy promises; and therefore thou shouldst be equally cautious in making them.' Now, you have made yours in all good faith, how can you break it again?"