75 “Lucy’s going to Prom with John Diedermayer?” Cathy nodded emphatically. There is only Gerald to see me, after all. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. 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. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. But send me word.
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