” Anna leaned back in the chair and laughed softly. ” Annabel yawned. " "More blood! more blood!" cried Trenchard, passing his hand with agony across his brow. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. But he was so feeble, that it seemed scarcely possible he could offer any effectual resistance in case of an attack. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. “No, you didn’t. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause.
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