Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. 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 was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back.
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