“My parents left for Vail on a plane this morning. Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. His first wife. She entered the room in the shadows. 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. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. " "A young fellow who thinks he's in love, when he has only been reading too much. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. \" Lucy felt her face go hot, but at the same time raised her eyebrows, relaying a tacit acknowledgement of her own distressed appearance.
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