‘What do you think?’ ‘What do I think?’ repeated Captain Roding. Her hair was gathered up behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. “Are these ordinary sapphires?” she said. ’ She shook her head. Now lend me your own hand.
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