"Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. You might even tire of me by then, you know. "Close the doors below! Loose the dogs! Curses! they don't hear me! I'll ring the alarm-bell. “Going to visit our little friend the vampire?” “What?” He asked, incredulous. You are much more like what I was then. The beach: to get there as quickly as he could, to reach the white man's nadir of abasement and gather the promise of that soothing indifference which comes with the final disintegration of the fibres of conscience.
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