We were only—les autres. “Second class,” said some one, but first and second were all alike to her. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. 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. “I thought they made knights of actors?” “They may of Hal some day,” said Gwen.
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