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"Do not trouble yourself to make any further excuse," says Mona, icily. "Very well: show him in here," says Mona, very distinctly, going on with the printing of her butter with a courage that deserves credit. There is acrimony in her tone, but laughter in her eyes. While acknowledging a faint soreness at her heart she is still amused at his prompt, and therefore flattering, subjection. "Oh! haven't you heard?" cries she. "Sure the country is ringing with it. Don't you know that they tried to shoot Mr. Moore last night?".
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"Shot himself! How?" she says, hoarsely, her bosom rising and falling tumultuously. "Jenkins, answer me." "How strange!" says the duchess, with an amused smile. "Are you quite sure of that?" "It is very hard on Sir Nicholas," says Mona, who would not call him "Nick" now for the world. "By and you will think differently," says Mona, believing he alludes to his surrender of the Rodney property "You will get over this disappointment.".
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