Jackson Gregory

“ Slowly Marvella's cheeks warmed to the tide of triumph. She made a little gesture with her hand, from which, for once, all rings were banished. She looked more youthful than Marvella should rightly have looked; more innocent and ethereal. Her lips parted, her eyes shone.
“Do you—like it?” she whispered.
“Like—it?” repeated Carrington. Suddenly he put out his hands toward her pleadingly. “You—you are all that I can see! Marvella! Heavens, how there is but the one name in the world to suit you—Marvella! Like it? I love you!” ”

“ They're more wonderful than music and moonlight. You, too, know the divine madness of rare, priceless gems!”
Marvella probed at him with her great blue eyes.
“Bring them,” she said. “I have kept my promise. Bring them.”
“I will,” Carrington said, and hurried away.
Marvella stood looking after him, her look one of pure triumph. After a life of chance, of ups and downs and dangers, Carrington and his many millions were like ripe plums, hers for the picking. He closed a door softly; still she stood, that triumphant smile on her lips. ”

“ At last Marvella had returned. Steele had not heard her; he could not see her, and yet he knew that she was again in the room down there with Carrington, perhaps poised just on the threshold. He knew from the look in Stephen's eyes.
“What miracle of a jewel it must be!” Stephen reflected. “To bring such a look into a man's eyes.” ”