” Capes watched the limpid water dripping from his oar. 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. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. “To the view that all women ought to have votes whether they like it or not.
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