It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. “I can’t imagine it,” said Miss Miniver. Maggot tenderly. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. 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. As they're so fond of each other's society they shan't part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree.
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