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. ‘You said it. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. I just like you, Mary, and we’ve had a lot of fun. Also he is ugly. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so.
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