"I want to show you something." The two stole down to the gate.

Then Rose faced Horace in full glare of moonlight.
"Look at me," said she, and she stifled another laugh of pure, childish delight.
Horace looked.

Only a few of the stones which Rose wore caught the moonlight to any extent, but she was all of a shimmer and gleam, like a creature decked with dewdrops.
"Look at me," she whispered again.
"I am looking." "Do you see ?" "What ?" "They are poor Aunt Abrahama's jewels.

Aunt Sylvia gave them to me.
Aren't they beautiful?
Such lovely, old-fashioned settings.

You can't half see in the moonlight.