Fortunately, ever since Wild's late murderous attack, the household has all been well armed. “Beautiful these autumn flowers are,” said Ann Veronica, in a wide, uncomfortable pause. 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. ” Annabel looked at her with terrified eyes. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights.
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