"For my part, it's only what I expected of him," observed Mrs. “A glass slipped from the table,” he explained. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. 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, I believe he is. ” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. “In a sense—yes. So it was with Gosse, who had wanted to marry her. It's gin—a liquor you used to like.
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