“You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. " "That's right," replied Wild, with a ghastly smile. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. Anna watched her with curious eyes. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. I understand. 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. ” Lucy implored. She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. “I am very glad that you have come here.
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