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. The man is a stranger to me. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an
ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. In the rush of commuters he did not
see her boarding his train. Her heart full of dread, she dragged
on it. It was a
copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and
awakened a thousand tender recollections. About her, as she had gone day by
day to and from the Tredgold College, she had seen and not seen many an
incidental aspect of those sides of life about which girls are expected to know
nothing, aspects that were extraordinarily relevant to her own position and
outlook on the world, and yet by convention ineffably remote.
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This video was uploaded to kooplokaalmontferland.info on 18-07-2024 22:30:07