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. It is quite light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. What marriage really meant (aside from the idea of escape), Ruth had not the least conception, no more than a child. All they left it was the moon and stars. She felt a semi-sharp object being gently impressed into her back.
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