’ ‘Because I like you, of course,’ Gerald said promptly. ’ ‘Ah, you know about that, then?’ ‘That much, yes. I made the pies. There isn’t. I don’t conceal it. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. I only seen her when she come with that Sister Martha. 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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