"You aren't angry, are you?" says Mona, now really contrite. "I couldn't help it, and it was like it, you know.",
There is a sparkle in Mona's eyes, a slight severing of her lips, that bespeak satisfaction and betray her full of very innocent appreciation of her own beauty. She stands well back, with her head held proudly up, and with her hands lightly clasped before her. Her attitude is full of unstudied grace.,
All day long, and often far into the night, these two sat on a near-by hill and wailed, and their mourning was sad..
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