Kneebone was attired in the extremity of the mode. 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. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up, and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links.
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