"Yes," says Mona, devoutly hoping he is going to say he means to refuse it. But such devout hope is wasted.,
"I wonder what kind of songs you like best," says Mona, dreamily, letting her fingers run noiselessly over the keys of the Collard. "If you are like me, you like sad ones.",
"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?".
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