It was, in his opinion, the most astonishing letter he had ever read. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. “There is my aunt,” she said. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. Isn’t that why we are out here?” “Why did you deny you were a vampire? Why are you keeping it a secret?” “I do not share the fact that I am a cannibal with the human race. On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. " "They are useless," she returned. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding.
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