Cursing under his breath, Gerald moved swiftly across and dragged her away. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. “Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. ‘Let’s see now. 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.
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