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. And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees. “Great!” Cathy squealed. ‘That’s not much comfort. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. ” He stood before the door. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument.
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