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. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. "A bit up in the world again; eh?" "Why did you bother with me?" "Because no human being has the right to die. She did not resist him, she could not. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground.
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