It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. Having drunk as much as he thought prudent, and thanked his unknown friend for his attention, Jack again lay down on the straw, and indulged himself with another nap, intending to get up as soon as it was perfectly dark. ‘First I must see Jacques, and—’ ‘No need for that,’ intervened Roding, grasping her arm and trying to drag her to the door. 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. Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored.
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