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"He isn't!" says Geoffrey, panting "I have him at last!" Whereupon he emerges from a wilderness of ferns, drawing after him and holding up triumphantly to the light the wandering bird, that looks more dead than alive, with all its feathers drooping, and its breath coming in angry cries. Then he tells her all the truth about his interview with his mother, only suppressing such words as would be detrimental to the cause he has in hand, and might give her pain. "Because you were at home," replies Mona, quietly, though in deep distress..
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"Yes, really, you know. I'm in earnest," declares Mr. Darling, laughing too. He is quite delighted with Mona. To find his path through life strewn with people who will laugh with him, or even at him, is his idea of perfect bliss. So he chatters on to her until, bed-hour coming, and candles being forced into notice, he is at length obliged to tear himself away from her and follow the men to the smoking-room. "Last week, Mona, you gave me your promise to marry me before Christmas; can you break it now? Do you know what an old writer says? 'Thou oughtest to be nice even to superstition in keeping thy promises; and therefore thou shouldst be equally cautious in making them.' Now, you have made yours in all good faith, how can you break it again?" "Yes; let me go to him," says Mona, quickly; "I shall know what to say better than you." Soon some people came to meet them and said, "What is this? Why are you mourning? Where is your husband?".
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