He barely shook the rose petals from her hair. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp. But be very careful not to let him know. 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. ‘Poor things. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. Lucy stood in front of the piano.
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