Even the shops that were closed offered, through wide expanses of
plate-glass, hints of hidden riches. In some, waves of silk and ribbon
broke over shores of imitation moss from which ravishing hats rose like
tropical orchids. In others, the pink throats of gramophones opened
their giant convolutions in a soundless chorus; or bicycles shining in
neat ranks seemed to await the signal of an invisible starter; or tiers
of fancy-goods in leatherette and paste and celluloid dangled their
insidious graces; and, in one vast bay that seemed to project them into
exciting contact with the public, wax ladies in daring dresses chatted
elegantly, or, with gestures intimate yet blameless, pointed to their
pink corsets and transparent hosiery.

Presently Harney found that his watch had stopped, and turned in at a
small jeweller's shop which chanced to still be open. While the watch
was being examined Charity leaned over the glass counter where, on a
background of dark blue velvet, pins, rings, and brooches glittered
like the moon and stars. She had never seen jewellry so near by, and
she longed to lift the glass lid and plunge her hand among the shining
treasures. But already Harney's watch was repaired, and he laid his hand
on her arm and drew her from her dream.

"Which do you like best?" he asked leaning over the counter at her side.

"I don't know...." She pointed to a gold lily-of-the-valley with white
flowers.

"Don't you think the blue pin's better?" he suggested, and immediately
she saw that the lily of the valley was mere trumpery compared to the
small round stone, blue as a mountain lake, with little sparks of light
all round it. She coloured at her want of discrimination.