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Little did the audience know that two vampires were in their midst. “Pellissier,” she repeated thoughtfully. Nigel Ennison, Annabel. ‘You don’t mean to say she’s here?’ ‘Was,’ Gerald corrected. “Some afternoon. "Something worse, I fear," Wood replied. ‘Parbleu, the house, is it broken in the least? I do not think so. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. But never mind that. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts.
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