Imitating the example of Mr. He would be off her case just as soon as his fever for her broke and he found a lover, and she imagined he must have plenty of girls from ritzy families lining up to choose from. “I will tell you as much as this,” she continued. She continued to fan herself. What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. 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.
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