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. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. . There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. You came out like an ant for your nuptial flight. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. Throughout the afternoon, while the doctor was giving her the first lesson out of his profound knowledge of life, her interest would break away continually, despite her honest efforts to pin it down to the facts so patiently elucidated for her. . She got up early, and walked about the garden in the dewy June sunshine and revived her childhood. He must know she’ll be at a convent.
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