But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. I dared not sing, I dared not laugh, except when you went away. “Going to visit our little friend the vampire?” “What?” He asked, incredulous. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground.
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