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"In that I spoke the truth," says Mr. Rodney, with a shameless laugh, "because it was an uncle who left me some money." The house, is home-like, sweet, and one which might perhaps day by day grow dearer to the heart; and this girl, this pretty creature who every now and then turns her eyes on Geoffrey, as though glad in a kindly fashion to see him there, seems a necessary part of the whole,—her gracious presence rendering it each moment sweeter and more desirable. "My precept to all who build is," says Cicero, "that the owner should be an ornament to the house, and not the house to the owner." "It was two hours ago," says Mona, gently. "And then it was quite daylight, or at least"—truthfully—"only the beginning of dusk.".
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"Wasn't much!" interrupts Geoffrey, with an attempt at carelessness that rather falls through beneath the gaze of those searching eyes. "Well, no more he is, you know, as a rule, unless some kind relative comes to his assistance." "And I feel just as if he had gone quietly to bed," says "No, I am not. Anything but that; and to be rude"—slowly—"answers no purpose. But I have some common sense, I hope." His voice breaks: with a groan he sinks back again upon his pillow..
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