“What did you say?” “Well, I considered myself justified in denying it,” Anna answered drily. "I've counted ten coffins so far. 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 voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun.
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