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. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. Even the horns were easing into the concept and the woodwinds in the second movement were particularly well-orchestrated. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. ” Sebastian snorted.
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