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. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. “Anna,” he cried eagerly. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. "Now, Jack," cried Thames, warmly grasping Sheppard's hand, "you are my friend again. ” “I resent!” “I was only sorry I’d been so stupid. I’m so glad you’re not angry. Only she hadn’t. It was a dismal and depressing sight to see a great city thus suddenly overthrown; and the carpenter was deeply moved by the spectacle. ” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. “Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks.
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