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"Well, really, you know, yes. I think there is something special about her," he says, feeling himself in duty bound to say something. "Very well, then; I shan't leave you; but you shall have that dress all the same," he says. "How shall we arrange about it?" "Of love generally?—no," with a disdainful glance,—"merely of your love of comfort.".
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"There wasn't much society to go into," says Mona, "and I was only fifteen when staying with Aunt Anastasia. She," confidentially, "made rather a grand match for us, you know." (Lady Rodney grinds her teeth, and tells herself she is on the point of fainting.) "She married the Provost of Trinity College; but I don't think he did her any good. She is the oddest old thing! Even to think of her now makes me laugh. You should have seen her," says Mrs. Geoffrey, leaning back in her chair, and giving way to her usual merry laugh, that rings like a peal of silver bells, "with her wig that had little curls all over it, and her big poke-bonnet like a coal-scuttle!" "That? Oh, that was the bride, Mrs. Rodney," replies he. "She is lovely, if you like." It is early morn. "The first low breath of waking day stirs the wide air." On bush and tree and opening flower the dew lies heavily, like diamonds glistening in the light of the round sun. Thin clouds of pearly haze float slowly o'er the sky to meet its rays; and "Oh, Mona, if you could only know how wretched I was all last night," he says; "I never put in such a bad time in my life.".
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