You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. Terence, meanwhile, who had followed him, did not remain silent, but recapitulated his story, for the benefit of Mrs. 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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