Only last night she saw me, and there was horror in her eyes. Monsieur is going inside perhaps?” But Sir John’s eyes were still riveted upon the poster, and his heart was beating with unaccustomed force. 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. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling.
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