" "Help! help!" shrieked Mrs. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. 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. “I was very foolish to have been deceived even for a moment. “I do love you.
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