\"Pleased to meet you, Miss Lucy. ” “Can’t we arrange something? Can’t we make a sort of treaty?” “He wouldn’t keep it. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. ‘Not here. Never mind. 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. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. They ascended by a lift to one of the upper floors, passed through a long ward, and finally came to a bed in the extreme corner, round which a screen had been arranged.
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