"My own old pet," says Mrs. Geoffrey, still mysteriously, and with the fondest smile imaginable.,
"Is—is he covered?" murmurs Mona, with difficulty, growing pale, and shrinking backwards. Instinctively she lays her hand on Rodney's arm, as though desirous of support. He, laying his own hand upon hers, holds it in a warm and comforting clasp.,
"Bless me!" says Geoffrey; "what an appalling thought! it makes me feel faint.".
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