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Or cattle faintly lowing: CHAPTER XIII. "No," says Mona, shaking her head. "Not—not to-night. I shall soon.".

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"Mona must go," says Nicholas, quickly. "Lady Lilias made a point of it. You will go, Mona?" She says this steadily, and very proudly, with her head held high, but without looking at him; which permits Geoffrey to gaze at her exhaustively. There is an unconscious meaning in her words, quite clear to him. She is of "the people," he of a class that looks but coldly upon hers. A mighty river, called Caste, rolls between them, dividing him from her. But shall it? Some hazy thought like this floats through his brain. They walk on silently, scarcely exchanging a syllable one with the other, until they come within sight of a small thatched house built at the side of the road. It has a manure-heap just in front of it, and a filthy pool to its left, in which an ancient sow is wallowing, whilst grunting harmoniously. "There was Violet," says Lady Rodney. "It was true," says Mona: "I was writing letters for Geoffrey.".