\" Diane chirped once again, ever-musical. Yes, I can readily believe it. 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. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces.
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