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"Oh, I dare say! I am not sure," says Lady Rodney, pettishly, who is rather annoyed at the idea of his going to Ireland, having other plans in view for him. "Come and sit by me. You can spare me a few minutes," she says, drawing her ample skirts to one side. Mona, taking her hand from Lauderdale's arm, drops into the proffered seat beside his mother, much to that young man's chagrin, who, having inherited the material hankering after that "delightful prejudice," as Theocritus terms beauty, is decidedly epris with Mrs. Geoffrey, and takes it badly being done out of his tete-a-tete with her. "He is not strong, you see: a little thing knocks him up, and he is too impressionable for a public career. But you are different.".

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"But there you are wrong. There need be no dissensions; my mother and I are very good friends, and she expects us both to go to the Towers on Friday next." "Mrs. Geoffrey Rodney, would have been more correct. You forget your husband is the youngest son. When Captain Rodney marries, his wife will be Mrs. Rodney." "It appears he had a pocket-pistol with him, Sir Nicholas, and going home through the wood he stumbled over some roots, and it went off and injured him fatally. It is an internal wound, my lady. Dr. Bland, who is with him, says there is no hope." "I'm going to," says Nolly, "if you will just give me time. Oh, what a day I've been havin', and how dear! You know I told you I was going to the orchard for a stroll and with a view to profitable meditation. Well, I went. At the upper end of the garden there are, as you know, some Portugal laurels, from which one can get a splendid survey of the country, and in an evil moment it occurred to me that I should like to climb one of them and look at the Chetwoode Hills. I had never got higher than a horse's back since my boyhood, and visions of my earlier days, when I was young and innocent, overcame me at that——".