"Do not stir. Your head is badly cut, an' it bleeds still," says Mona, with a shoulder. "I cannot stop it. Oh, what shall I do?",
"Well, as I say, I shall soon," returns Mona, brightening, "because Geoffrey has promised to teach me.",
"Yes, I do," says Mona, truthfully. "Just now, at least. Perhaps"—sadly—"when I am your age I sha'n't.".
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