. ’ The lady shook her head, contriving at the same moment to utter a breathy little laugh. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dispersed in different directions in quest of the other robber. I felt as though I had bandaged eyes. She had had two days of employment-seeking now. 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. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness.
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