A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. “It is too late for visitors,” she remarked. "You have lived over here?"—astonished. 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. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. I’ve been on the watch for you. " "Do you suppose he knew?" "He? Oh, you mean Mr. My father was Colonel Pellissier. ’ ‘Don’t be a little fool,’ Gerald snapped irritably.
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