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"An' the biggest birds, an' as full o' corn as iver ye see, the rogues!" "It is terrible, terrible," says Mona, piteously sinking on her knees beside the bed. One of his hands is lying outside the coverlet, and, with a gesture full of tender regret, she lays her own upon it. "What a shame!" says Mona, angrily. Then she changes her note, and says, with a soft, low, mocking laugh, "How I pity you!".
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"There are things that chill one more than water," returns he, slightly offended by her tone. Like little mice, stole in and out, The dagger has fallen to the carpet in the struggle, and Mona, picking it up, flings it far from her into the darksome night through the window. Then she goes up to Geoffrey, and laying her hand upon his breast, turns to confront their cousin. "And have you walked from Coolnagurtheen this morning? Why, it is eight miles from this," says she, taking no notice of his last speech. "You could have had no breakfast!".
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