’ Kimble chewed his lip, but his hostility was visibly lessening. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. "Thames Darrell only waits my mandate to follow him. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place.
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