’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. Befuddle yourself, if you want to. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. "Ah!" exclaimed Jack, starting to his feet. A sophisticated woman would have translated the tone as a caress. His energy began to slip away and she sank her teeth into his fat carotid artery below the piano wire, which had drawn blood from his neck. ‘Come,’ she called.
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