“Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. But now Ann Veronica knew what was the matter with her. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer.
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