She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. ’ ‘Yes, but what is it, Jacques?’ demanded the lady. 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. I have healed and I am still your wife!\" She looked at him desperately, his eyes illuminated by firelight. ‘And this is not all,’ went on the lady, evidently determined to disclose all her wrongs. The fair boy in the audience who had waved was yet another suitor.
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