"The wine--the warm weather--something--oh! oh!"
"With these inexplicable remarks, Miss Wilkeson dropped her fan, uttered
a slight but sharp scream, and fell back in her chair, like a withered
flower on a broken stalk.
"By thunder, she has fainted!" said the excited Tiffles. He had never
been in a similar dilemma, and did not know what to do. He had heard
tickling of the feet highly recommended in such cases; but that was
obviously impracticable. A dash of cold water in the face was also said
to afford instant relief; but there was no water at hand. "I must call
for help," said he.
This remark appeared to arouse Miss Wilkeson. "Support me," she
murmured. "I shall be better soon."
Tiffles, all accommodation, clasped her fragile waist with an arm, and
gently inclined her head upon his shoulder. She heaved a sigh, and gave
other tokens of returning animation. Tiffles here noticed that her face
had not the prevailing paleness which always accompanies fainting. He
instantly suspected the true nature of Miss Wilkeson's complaint.
The noise of quick footsteps resounded in the entry.
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