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The grass is still brown, the trees barren, no ambitious floweret thrusts its head above the bosom of its mother earth,—except, indeed, those "floures white and rede, such as men callen daisies," that always seem to beam upon the world, no matter how the wind blows. "By Jove, you know, it is odd," says Geoffrey, presently, speaking as one might who has for long been following out a train of thought by no means unpleasant, "his sending for her, and that: there must be something in it. Rodney didn't write to her for nothing. It must have been to——" Here he checks himself abruptly, remembering his promise to Mona to say nothing about the scene in the library. "It certainly means something," he winds up, a little tamely. "Jack is only Mr. Rodney too.".
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Conrad
When he reached the camp he went to the lodge of Broken Bow—a brave young man, but very poor. "Heaven," repeats he, with a sigh. "I have forgotten to think of heaven." "But what is Lady Lilias like? I did not notice her the other night," says Mona. "If we hurry we must meet his car there, and can send him back into Bantry, and so save him.".
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