By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. Spurling, half aside. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch. I can’t rest or work or settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. While I am talking about your friends, I feel—I think you ought to know how I look at it. 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. "I dare not, Rowland," she answered. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school.
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