" "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey. Rummage, my boy, do. Still—you must learn for yourself. 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. ” But after that neither ideas nor phrases had come and she had fallen thinking of the events of the day. She had to school herself to speak the words which she knew would cut him like a knife.
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