Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. But, uttering a loud cry, he was swept away by the headlong torrent. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it.
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