Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. ’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. ‘No, I don’t see much future in pursuing her down this passage. You may have something to conceal, you may not. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. 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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