For her 24th birthday, Richard, her painfully ordinary boyfriend, gives her a golden watch, with her name etched into the surface. It's a lovely watch, slim and delicate on her wrist (a wrist he likes to call ladylike and elegant, a wrist that once wore a guard instead of a watch, a wrist that drew a golden bow and could shoot arrows true enough to knock leaves from trees) and it shines dully when she walks with him under the pale Earth sun. Susan wishes she treasured it, wishes that she could look at the lovely, delicate watch and see it shine gold, but every time she glimpses it, the dull, yellowish watch recalls the bright gleam of her bow (polished so brightly that it seemed to glimmer in the sunlight), the sparkling glow of the golden sands at Cair Paravel, and the proud shine of her crown, and, trying to forget the feeling of the golden Narnian sun on her akin, Susan thinks that nothing in this world could ever be so lovely as the kingdom she could never return to.