” Her urge to drink deeply of his blood was growing insane, ignited by what he had already donated. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. ” Lady Ferringhall was conscious of some relief. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. ’ ‘You’re going?’ asked his friend, and the note of relief was marked.
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