Two things weren't. The silver bracelet he had given her-and her grandmother's pearls. "Jesus bloody Christ." He looked again, just to be sure, dumping out the glittering junk and spreading it on his counterpane. No pearls. Certainly no string of baroque Scottish pearls, spaced with antique gold roundels. She couldn't be wearing them, not to an engineering conference in Sri Lanka. The pearls were an heirloom to her, not an ornament. She seldom wore them. They were her link with- "You didn't," he said aloud. "God, tell me you didn't do it!
( Diana Gabaldon )
[ Drums of Autumn ]
www.QuoteSweet.com