What he wanted desperately was to be alone. "She has, she has," said Jack, in a broken voice. So many things she saw that her interest stumbled rather than leaped from object to object. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed. 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.
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