"I wish you would not talk of being buried," says Mona, with a sob. "There is no comfort in the tomb: there our dust may mingle, but in heaven our souls shall meet, I trust,—I hope.",
"It was rather better than I anticipated, thank you," not in the haughty tone adopted by her half an hour ago, but, in an unnerved and frightened whisper.,
"Very," returns he, surprised. He has not thought of her as one versed in lore of any kind. "What poets do you prefer?".
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