Anna came back into the sitting-room with a little sigh of relief. 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. Hogarth," he observed, significantly. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. They even threatened to cut the traces and take off the wheels from the carriage. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. ’ Gerald could not suppress a grin. . Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts.
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