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. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. She had fallen asleep. E.
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