After a moment she raised her hand, examining it attentively.

Her hand had been very beautiful in shape, white and dimpled, and she had been vain enough to wear fine rings.

Now it was yellow and wrinkled.

The great emerald looked like a bit of glass upon it.
"Yes, I see," she said, with a miserable little laugh, and then stood looking out into the far distance.

"But _I_ am not growing old." She spoke aloud, as if to one who stood apart with her and could understand.