She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it.
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