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She tried for her usual confident tone, but only succeeded in sounding gruff, even to her own ears. Mrs. 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. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. The boy’s besotted. Because for the punishments je m’en moque.
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