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. I have gone without dinner for three nights, and—come in. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room. Am I quite hidden?" "Not quite;—keep your feet in. Not much. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively.
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