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"Oh! so you can ride, then," says Lauderdale, alluding probably to the cause of his late merriment. "I give you my honor I didn't. I neither saw nor heard but what I tell you. Why, if I had listened I could fill a volume with their nonsense. Three-quarters of an hour it lasted. How a fellow can take forty-five minutes to say, 'Will you marry me?' passes my comprehension. Whenever I am going to do that sort of thing, which of course," looking at Mona, "will be never now, on account of what you said to me some time since,—but if ever I should be tempted, I shall get it over in twenty seconds precisely: that will even give me time to take her hand and get through the orthodox embrace." "It is too much to ask, but I dread being alone," he goes on, with a quick shudder of fear and repulsion. "It is a dark and terrible journey to take, with no one near who loves one, with no one to feel a single regret when one has departed.".
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"Is—is Violet Mansergh a pretty girl?" asks Mona, grasping instinctively at the fact that any one called Violet Mansergh may be a possible rival. To gain Lady Rodney's friendship is a more difficult thing than Mona in her ignorance had imagined, and she is determined to be ice itself to her poor little guest. As for her love, when first Mona's eyes lit upon her she abandoned all hope of ever gaining that. They put him to rest in the family vault, where his ancestors lie side by side,—as Mona promised him,—and write Sir Paul Rodney over his head, giving him in death the title they would gladly have withheld from him in life. There was once a man who loved his wife dearly. After they had been married for a time they had a little boy. Some time after that the woman grew sick and did not get well. She was sick for a long time. The young man loved his wife so much that he did not wish to take a second woman. The woman grew worse and worse. Doctoring did not seem to do her any good. At last she died..
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