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Here she gets completely out of her depths, and stops to consider from whence this train of thought sprung. The pig is forgotten,—indeed, to get from pigs to diamonds and back again is not an easy matter,—and has to be searched for again amidst the dim recesses of her brain, and if possible brought to the surface. All day long, and often far into the night, these two sat on a near-by hill and wailed, and their mourning was sad. Again she has grown silent, as though oppressed with thought; and he too is mute, but all his mind is crowded with glad anticipations of what the near future is to give him. He has no regrets, no fears. At length, struck by her persistent taciturnity, he says, "What is it, Mona?".
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Conrad
"Well, now," they replied; "we have those animals, how are we to kill them?" It is ten days later. The air is growing brisker, the flowers bear no new buds. More leaves are falling on the woodland paths, and the trees are throwing out their last bright autumn tints of red and brown and richest orange, that tell all too plainly of the death that lies before them. "Where has Mona taken the duchess?" asks Lady Rodney of Sir Nicholas half an hour later. He turns, as though by an irrepressible impulse, to look keenly at her. His scrutiny endures only for an instant. Then he says, with admirable indifference,—.
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