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. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. Before Wood had time to inquire into the cause of this sound, his attention was diverted by a man, who rushed past the entry with the swiftness of desperation. She cleaned everything, wiped every surface, mopped and scrubbed every last drop of blood. A man came out, and walking recklessly, almost cannoned into Ennison. "Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her.
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