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. Sheppard, with a deep sigh, perceiving that her benefactor hesitated to pronounce the word. "I should be sorry to proceed to extremities," continued Sheppard, again raising the pistol. Her mouth was an effective tourniquet. "You'll feel better after it. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac.
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