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"Oh, that I could believe so!" says Mona, forgetful of manners, courtesy, everything, but the desire to see those she loves restored to peace. "Go on, Noll," exclaims Dorothy, in her most encouraging tone. "Let Violet hear it. She will understand it." "Come a little farther," he says, gently, slinging the heavy bag across his own shoulders. "There must be a farmhouse somewhere.".

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Glancing round fearfully for a moment, as though desirous of making sure that no strange eyes are watching her movements, she lets the loose cloak fall to the ground, and, taking with careful haste the covering from her head, slips like Cinderella from her ordinary garments into all the glories of a fete gown. She steps a little to one side, and, throwing up her head with a faint touch of coquetry that sits very sweetly on her, glances triumphantly at Geoffrey, as though fully conscious that she is looking exquisite as a dream. "Oh, no, I'm not clever," says Mona; "but"—nervously and with downcast eyes, addressing Geoffrey—"I might perhaps be able to make you a little more comfortable." To the old people he said, "Go over now to that lodge and live there. There is plenty of food, and when that is gone I will kill more. As for me, I shall make a journey. Tell me where there are any people. In what direction shall I go to find a camp?" "Oh, yes, you may go," says Mona. Geoffrey says nothing. He is looking at her with curiosity, in which deep love is mingled. She is so utterly unlike all other women he has ever met, with their petty affectations and mock modesties, their would-be hesitations and their final yieldings. She has no idea she is doing anything that all the world of women might not do, and can see no reason why she should distrust her friend just because he is a man..