“My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “What’s odd?” “Oh, everything!” She shivered, and went to the fire and poked it. Prudence was the substance and Angelina the shadow; for Angelina never offered opinions, she only agreed with those advanced by Prudence. "Zounds!" cried Kneebone, furiously. ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind.
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