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“I do,” he answered. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. ” “You are a marvellous courier,” she declared, as they passed into the street. 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.
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