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. " "Anything else, Sir?" "No:—stay! you'd better not bring up any silver forks or spoons. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. But days had now passed. To stumble upon the trail through the agency of a bottle of whisky! Drank queer; so his bottle had rendered him conspicuous. Poor little one.
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