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. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. It was John Diedermayer, who had been transformed into a young scholar with a large pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses on. He was a fool. ” Everything was good. "What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. ” He frowned.
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