‘I only wish I might have won her confidence. The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. You would do best not to admit to such things either after becoming a vampire. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. Were such a thing to happen again, I'd never let Mr. ‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. He remembered that, before he attempted to dislodge the stone, he had placed the child in a cavity of the pier, which the granite mass had been intended to fill. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. That there Frenchie didn’t look any too friendly to me.
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