CHAPTER XVIII

A CATASTROPHE After a miserable, feverish night of tossing and turning, Isbel at last fell asleep in the early hours of the morning. She awoke again at eight, and at once got up. She felt dull and stupid, was incapable of quickening her movements, her eyes gave her a sense of being sunk half-way in her head. So sluggish was her blood that whatever she chanced to look at seemed to possess the power of detaining her gaze for an indefinite period, though all the time she was not really seeing it. To crown all, she had…