I don’t care. " "It matters not what I think," replied Wild. Gerald kicked the panelled wall in frustration. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. Jackson and Mr. . 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 has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s. I could never have talked to you like this, forgetting everything that parts us, forgetting even your age, if I did not love you utterly. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts.
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