For an instant Julie was afraid that Isabel was going to present her with the Green God, but she reached within the shrine and drew out, not the God—to Julie’s unspeakable relief—but an exquisite circle of jade, clear and green like a tropical lake.
“A jewel from the Green God for you who have his stamp in your eyes.”
Julie started. “Some one else told me that.”
“Who was it?”
“Barry McChord.”
Isabel’s lids dropped over her blue eyes. “You know him, then?”
“I met him last night.”
“And he noticed your eyes—that way?”
“But nobody will notice them now—” It was absurd to assume that there was the faintest flicker of satisfaction in the other woman’s look, Julie thought.
Isabel slipped the bracelet over Julie’s wrist. “It has belonged to many women in many ages. Perhaps you will make more history for it. What beautiful bones you have!” she exclaimed. “They are like sculpture—even in your cheeks where the bones of the English go wrong. And your flesh is flawless; an angel might use it to come down to earth. Look at the difference.”