CHAPTER THREE
	The Giants
	The long tables that formed a continuous counter around the room were heaped with diamonds, as neatly stacked as could be managed with such irregularly shaped things. Crystals have points, yet some diamonds are apt to roll. It was a businesslike room, and the heaps should have been businesslike, too, for they were as much merchandise as if they had been stacks of carbon paper. Through the door leading into a larger room I saw more tables in rows, where more diamonds were being sorted by aproned young girls using implements like eyebrow tweezers. All this should have been prosaic, but diamonds even in commercial bulk are never prosaic. They were in the rough, they weren't cut, but they flashed. Johannesburg's sun struck them, through the high windows and skylights, and they gleamed as if their light came not as an answer, but from some inside source. "These in the lot here," said the man who was showing me around, indicating the nearest heap, "are what we call close goods, that is, of the best quality. They're pure; unspotted. As you can see they're graded according to size as well as color.