“But how is it all going to end?” said Mr. Upon a table, where they had been hastily deposited, on the intelligence of Darrell's accident, lay a pair of pink kid gloves, bordered with lace, and an enormous fan; the latter, when opened, represented the metamorphosis and death of Actæon. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open.
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