Here Hogarth received a private signal from Thornhill to attract Sheppard's attention. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. 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. She is not in the least like the descriptions of her. “You promised faithfully to be there,” he said slowly. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink.
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