No; the future was not so dark; there was a bit of dawn visible. You won't mind if I empty this gin?" "No. But I have two hundred thousand pounds. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. 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’re a far cry from your usual gloomy self these days.
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