A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. 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’s obvious you have eyes for someone else. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. Or appeared to do so. I will remember them, Sebastian, along with my mother and father, and all the others I came to love and lose.
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