“I comforted myself with the hope that you would feel them as much your own as ever!” he resumed, in a tone of disappointment and dejection.
“I did not know of their existence before I knew they were never to be mine.”
“Never, Alexa?”
“Never.”
George walked to the door, but there turned, and said:
“By the way, you know that cup your father was so fond of?”
“No.”
“Not that gold cup, set with stones?”
“I saw something in his hands once, in bed, that might have been a cup.”
“It is a thing of great value—of pure gold, and every stone in it a gem.”