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In ignorance of the fact that Geoffrey has been hurt in the fray, she lays her hand upon the injured arm. Instinctively he shrinks from the touch. Of that mysterious instrument, the soul, "I think I shall have Allspice too," goes on Mona. "But say nothing. Lady Rodney, if she knew it, would not allow it for a moment. But Jenkins" (the old butler) "has promised to manage it all for me, and to smuggle my dear dogs up to my room without any one being in the least the wiser.".
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"Do not take her away yet,—not yet," he says, in a faint whisper. "Yes, that is just what occurred to me," says Mona, nodding her head sympathetically. "But you didn't cut your throat, after all," says Mona, with a wicked little grimace. "But your uncle's death made it all right, didn't it?".
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