"I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. "I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. I want to make you feel that here is a place where the crowd does not clamor nor ill-winds blow. You are afraid—that here in London—I shall not be a success. "I'll tell you," replied Jack, with forced calmness. But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity. 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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