"I don't know what it is; drums, anyhow. Maybe it is the emeralds.
Something has been happening ever since you told me about them - the
misery and evil that follow their wake."

"But the story goes that women are immune, Kitty."

"Nonsense! No woman is immune where a wonderful gem is concerned.
And yet I've common sense and humour."

"And a lot more besides, Kitty. You're a raving, howling little
beauty; and how you've remained out of captivity this long is a
puzzler to me. Haven't you got a beau somewhere?"

"No, Cutty. Perhaps I'm one of those who are quite willing to wait
patiently. If the one I want doesn't come - why, I'll be a jolly,
philosophical old maid. No seconds or culls for me, as the magazine
editor says."

"Exactly what do you want?" Cutty was keenly curious, for some
reason he could not define. He did not care for diamonds as stones;
but he admired any personality that flashed differently from each
new angle exposed.

"Oh, a man, among other things. I don't mean one of those godlike
chromos in the frontispiece of popular novels. He hasn't got to be
handsome. But he must be able to laugh when he's happy, when he's
hurt. I must be his business in life. He must know a lot about
things I know. I want a comrade who will come to me when he has a
joke or an ache. A gay man and whimsical. The law can make any
man a husband, but only God can make a good comrade."