The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. E. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright. “I am so sorry. “Of course it is okay!” Cathy’s voice rose in volume and in pitch.
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