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Mona, rising, pushes Violet gently into her own chair, a little black-and-gold wicker thing, gaudily cushioned. "Weary me! no, indeed. That is one of the very few unkind things you have ever said to me. How could I weary of your voice? Go on; tell me where you keep this magical piano." "And the lamp, did you find it burning?".
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"Good gracious, Mona, whom do you mean?" asks he, aghast both at her look and tone. "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. "Perhaps, as you have been so good at your first guess you will try again," says Mona, still addressing Nicholas, and speaking in a tone of unusual light-heartedness, but so standing that no one can see why her hands are so persistently clasped behind her back. "Now tell me who I was with." Mona turns pale..
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