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"I was in the right, you see, father," observed Thames, smiling; "Jack has done his task. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. Even this man had accepted her for “Alcide” without a moment’s question. His five o’clock shadow was bristly against her fingers. 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. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room.
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