Geoffrey, with his gun upon his shoulder, trudges steadily onward rejoicing in the freshness of the morning air.,
"And 'A dumb priest loses his benefice,'" quotes Mona, in her turn, almost gayly too.,
"I wonder what kind of songs you like best," says Mona, dreamily, letting her fingers run noiselessly over the keys of the Collard. "If you are like me, you like sad ones.".
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