Loneliness. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house. After some time, the scuffle grew more and more distant, until nothing could be heard. 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. . ” He said.
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