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"Leave him to me," he said. "It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. 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. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. We are both graduates of Yale. "Besides, you'll not be able to get in without me. Thank him, not me, man. ” Annabel rose to her feet.
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