'It's set in--the inflammation--it's set in, Sir.

He's gone.

That's the rigor.' 'Poor gentleman,' said Lowe, after a short pause, 'I'm much concerned for him, and for his family.' ''Tis a bad business,' said Toole, gloomily, like a man that's frightened.

And he followed Mrs.Sturk, leaving Lowe adjusting his papers in the parlour.
Toole found his patient laden with blankets, and shivering like a man in an ague, with blue sunken face.

And he slipped his hand under the clothes, and took his pulse, and said nothing but--'Ay--ay--ay'-- quietly to himself, from time to time, as he did so; and Sturk--signing, as well as he could, that he wanted a word in his ear--whispered, as well as his chattering teeth would let him, 'You know what _this_ is.' 'Well--well--there now, there; drink some of this,' said Toole, a little flurried, and trying to seem cool.
'I think he's a little bit better, doctor,' whispered poor little Mrs.
Sturk, in Toole's ear.
'Twill pass away.