“What did it matter?” she cried. "Take care of yourself, then," rejoined Thames, doubling his fists, and advancing towards him: "though my right arm's stiff, I can use it, as you'll find. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. ” Her hand fell back into her lap. Without hindrance—present occupation. 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. A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY.
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