Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. ‘Is it worth it?’ he asked at last. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. The party, then, sat down to a bowl of punch; and, at its conclusion, Captain Kneebone regretted that an engagement to spend the evening with Mrs.
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