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. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. She rapped on Michelle’s door loudly. I had two slices. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. “I was hoping to be able to secure a few minutes’ conversation with you, Miss Pellissier.
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