“A little extra sleep. She said she needed it.”
“What of the jewel that I lent you?”
“It is very safe. I have a request to make to you.”
“What is it?”
“I wish to beg the jewel for my mother.”
“What is she like?”
He smiled.
“Words cannot describe her; to my eyes, the perfection of beauty and loveliness. As innocent and simple and free from care or evil as the light.”
“You don’t resemble her, do you?” asked Rosalie, unconscious of the bitterness of her remark.
He laughed, perceiving it.