Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. Sheppard. "Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. . "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound.
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