At ninethirty he climbed into the chair and signified to Ah Cum that he was ready. Rubbishy novels and pernicious rascals. I do want them. You can have no shecrets from me. 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. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. ’ She shrugged.
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