Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. “And you brought her a man, I presume. " "Where are the assassins?" cried Sheppard. 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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