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. Come to take leave. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. There are certain smells, certain tinges to the air. . A trial always brings those involved into public notice, and I dare say he feels there will be scandal enough without adding to it. Here they remained till midnight when, calling for their reckoning and their steeds, they left the house.
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