To be ill and helpless. ‘If you mean this capitaine, he is on the contrary altogether the least delightful person I have met. The poor boy, imagining things! "That's want of substantial food. "I beg your pardon!… A bit rocky this morning…. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. You are in the hands of a wicked, a terrible man, who will not stop till he has completed your destruction. And Ann Veronica walked beside him, trying in vain to soften her heart to him by the thought of how she had ill-used him, and all the time, as her feet and mind grew weary together, rejoicing more and more that at the cost of this one interminable walk she escaped the prospect of—what was it?—“Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights” in his company. "I never told anybody," she went on.
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