"I hope not, indeed," says Mona giving him her hand with a very flattering haste.,
Her face is hidden; it is lying on her arms, and they are cast, in the utter recklessness and abandonment of her grief, across the feet of him who, only yesterday, had been her "man,"—her pride and her delight.,
"I don't like Mr. Boer," says Mona, "and it was not me he came to see.".
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