‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. She watched for five minutes until he completely disappeared over Pine Crest, past the yellow fire hydrant and the dented stop sign. 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. " "Well, we shall see," replied Jack. “I am under police surveillance,” she said. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. Utter silence answered him.
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