Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. 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. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship. ‘Do you think I do not know? If this pig has not done so, there would be no need for me to do it. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. Without betraying the slightest confusion, or making a single remark, he quietly resumed his seat. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought. .
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