For half an hour she slept like stone. Then her eyes opened, and they told
of sickness now in motion within her. And, strangely enough, through the
overpowering nausea rising from her stomach to her brain, the thought that
she was not going to die appeared perfectly clear, and with it a sense of
disappointment; she would have to begin it all over again. It was with
great difficulty that she struck a match and lighted a candle. It seemed
impossible to get up. At last she managed to slip her legs out of bed, and
found she could stand, and through the various assaults of retching she
thought of the letter: it must be destroyed; and, leaning in the corner
against the wall and the wardrobe, she tried to recover herself. A dull,
deep sleep was pressing on her brain, and she thought she would never be
able to cross the room to where the letter was. Dandy looked out of his
rug; she caught sight of his bright eyes.
On cold and shaky feet she attempted to make her way towards the letter;
but the room heaved up at her, and, fearing she should fall, and knowing if
she did that she would not be able to regain her feet, she clung to the
toilette-table. She must destroy that letter: if it were found, they would
watch her; and, however impossible her life might become, she would not be
able to escape from it.
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