I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me. I trust you will not accuse me of discourtesy if I express my pleasure that henceforth our ways will lie apart. 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. ” “You can’t be that,” said Ann Veronica, wisely.
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