He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. Sepulchre's church, where, in compliance with an old custom, it halted. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. He walked unsteadily towards the door. “What about blood banks? Have you ever tried them?” “I don’t just take blood, John.
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