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"She must be a great comfort to you," says Geoffrey from his heart. A little soft woollen shawl of plain white has slipped from her throat and fallen to the ground, unheeded by her in her great distress. Lifting it almost unwillingly, he comes close to her, and places it round her once again. In so doing he discovers that tears are running down her cheeks. "'Top corner,—right hand,'" goes on Mona, taking no heed of him, and speaking in the same low, mysterious, far-off tone..
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Dorothy from her corner laughs gayly. "Poor old Noll," she says: "it was his unhappy childhood that blighted his later years and made him the melancholy object he is." "But, my dearest, why? There is not the slightest danger now, and my horse is a good one, and I sha'n't be any time getting——" "I do remember it," replies she, bitterly. Then Mona goes on quietly,—.
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