’ A little sigh escaped her. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. 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. “Really it is very kind of you to have found me out. "You play?" asked McClintock, who was sorting the rolls.
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