"Sometimes I long again for a mad, wild gallop straight across country, where nobody can see me,—such as I used to have," goes on Mona, half regretfully.,
"And what do you think of me?" She has grown a little pale, but her eyes have not left his.,
"Do not ever speak to me like that again," says Mona, turning upon him eyes humid with disappointment, yet free from wrath of any kind. "As for Mr. Moore," with a curl of her short upper lip that it does him good to see, and a quick frown, "why, he is as old as the hills, and as fat as Tichborne, and he hasn't got a single hair on his head!".
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