If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. They had not to tarry long. 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. I have but to give a hint of that boy's existence in the proper quarter, and his life will not be worth a day's purchase. It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly enough between half the men and women in London.
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