” “Well!” “He greeted me effusively. “You’re burning up. She felt that Ann Veronica had duped her in that dream, and now that she had come up to London she might as well speak her mind. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. 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. We aren’t worth it. . I deserve pretty much what I’ve got. The man turned at the exclamation, and so did several of the bystanders; but they could not make out who had uttered it.
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