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. She vanished from the laboratory for a week, a week of oddly interesting days. Fortescue, with a bow. Her mind jumped with questions as fear raced through her and hardened into a bid for retaliation. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression.
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