” His voice conveyed studied moderation. Her heart swelled to suffocation. 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 isn’t. All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. " "My dear," said the hospitable carpenter, "I dare say Mr.
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