They're only just gone, mercy on us! what a clatter," she added, as the knocking was repeated more violently than before. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. ’ ‘That’s odd. She would take this one back with her. 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. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted. When they reached the door, he kissed her 246 again. ‘Very useful, of course.
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