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. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. It was still so dark, that nothing could be distinguished except the heavy masses of timber by which the premises were surrounded; but as they advanced, lights were visible in some of the windows. “So what is John up to today?” Lucy asked with a weary smile. Then she saw him. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. She was, she guessed, close to the library. It was a capital diversion; and as usual the Leatherneck bested the Britisher, in seven rounds. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. He got off at Canal, and she exited behind the crowd.
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