"His name, I say!—his name!" thundered the knight. She had been careless. 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. “If ever you do and I can help you in any way, by advice or inquiry or recommendation—You see, I’m no believer in feminine incapacity, but I do perceive there is such a thing as feminine inexperience. But in this posture he fared worse than ever. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her.
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