"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. Wood governs me?" "It's plain you can't govern yourself, at all events," replied Jack coolly; "but, be that as it may, I won't be struck for nothing. He wriggled underneath her heaving body, pinned like an insect. 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 the contrary, it was impossible to look at him without perceiving that his resolution was unshaken. "It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild.
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