Think, ma’am. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. He was so seldom wrong. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip.
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