\" She replied. And in its way it was very well. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until that also relaxed its gripe. ” It occurred to her that she had never seen her father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal. 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. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. She was in deadly earnest in everything she did. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. CHAPTER XIV.
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