“It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. ” Her urge to drink deeply of his blood was growing insane, ignited by what he had already donated. He’s riding down the drive. I’ve told you that practically already. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. “Indeed,” she said, “I would not. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club.
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