It was a precious thing, a beautiful cabochon—do you know what that is?” “What’s a cabochon?” “It’s a precious jewel that doesn’t have facets yet. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. "Added to which, she is neither so young as she was, nor, is her temper by any means improved—hem!" "Say no more on the subject, Sir," observed the stranger, gravely; "but let us turn to a more agreeable one—her daughter. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. McClintock was in a gay mood at dinner that night; but he did not see fit to give these children the true reason.
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