“Are these ordinary sapphires?” she said. Your disobedience be upon your own head. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. McClintock never threw away any advertising matter; in fact, he openly courted pamphlets; and they came from automobile dealers and great mail-order houses, from haberdashers and tailors and manufacturers of hair-tonics, razors, gloves, shoes, open plumbing.
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