He sent me flowers. 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. He had quite enough to see to and worry about in the City without their doing things. “I wonder if you give me a thought. “It was,” she admitted. “Is it your maid?” he asked. "He left Dollis Hill at ten o'clock on that night, and has not since returned.
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