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. ‘But of course. “Why do you kill me?” Michelle asked. 216 “Please, get dressed. We can’t. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition.
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