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. ” “You—you did what?” Anna exclaimed. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. About them quickly. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased. “Soul to soul.
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