‘Eh bien, Eugénie. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. "Let us fly from this frightful place. Ireton and his friends to taste it. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. 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. So that it seemed to her the whole world had changed —the very light of it had changed.
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