"I was in your country, the other day," he says, pushing Mona's skirts a little to one side, and sinking on to the ottoman she has chosen as her own resting-place. "And a very nice country it is.",
"And see what we gained by our haste," says Dorothy, smiling at Mona. "You can't think what a charming sight it was. Like an old legend or a fairy-tale. Was it a minuet you were dancing?",
"No, you won't," interrupts his brother, smiling. "Though I think the poor child has done her duty now. Let him pass. It is he should hate me, not I him.".
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