’ ‘Couldn’t help but do so, ma’am,’ said Mrs Ibstock. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. She would be extraordinarily interesting as a metaphysical study. There was also the daunting task of getting dressed. 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. It’s best.
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