"The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. Man or woman. She had never fasted before as a vampire, and a horrible twisting pain emerged in her gut, shaking her legs with muscle cramps. He smiled. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. I’ve tried to use my authority. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. " "I tell 'ee what, landlord," observed the old sailor, quietly replenishing his pipe from a huge pewter tobacco-box, as the waterman and Wood quitted the house, "you've said good-b'ye to your friend. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless.
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