Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. 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 know not what a wretched guilty thing I am. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. ” Michelle’s voice lowered to a whisper. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. "I find I was in error.
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