She held out her hand and he laid the ring on her palm.

The knife lay on her palm, dull in the dark.

The ring lay on my open palm, light and warm.

It lay on his palm, small and complex, a thing of clutching angles.

Glittering in the faint light, the three French gold pieces lay on her palm.

It lay on his palm like a drop of blood.

He took the knife from her and laid it on his palm.

Two of the twisted stone rings lay on her palm.

It lay on his palm: a circle, quartered by a cross.

Then, as it lay flat on his palm, the envelope burst into flame.