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. "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. "Otherwise you will not get your morning's sleep. ‘Fiddle, Gerald. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate.
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