Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. 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 pavement had been hastily picked up, and heaped across the end of the street, upon which planks, barrels, and other barricades, were laid. We thought of starting in half an hour’s time, and trying for a theatre somewhere on the way.
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