She entered and approached the bunk. Sir John hesitated. 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 sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. . He drew a little sigh of relief. " "Are you sure of that," inquired Jackson.
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