Teddy Widgett hovered on the fringe of all these gatherings, blinking at Ann Veronica and occasionally making a wildly friendly dash at her, and carrying her and Miss Miniver off to drink cocoa with a choice diversity of other youthful and congenial Fabians after the meetings. If he laid his own suspicions boldly before the girl, and in the end the boy came clean, he would always be haunted by the witless cruelty of the act. It was, in his opinion, the most astonishing letter he had ever read. And yet, the doctor recalled an expression of the girl's: that it was not a dissipated face, only troubled. It’s these damned novels. 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. She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. “So you come from Anna, do you?” she remarked.
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