"I won't, then. Sure you can live alone with yourself for one minute," returns she, in very fine Irish; and, with a parting smile, sweet as nectar and far more dangerous, she goes.,
"Beg pardon, I'm sure," says Nolly, absently. "But"—with sudden interest—"do you know what you have done? You have married the prettiest woman in England.",
"A little," says Mona. It is perhaps the nearest approach to a falsehood she has ever made..
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