It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. ” Her urge to drink deeply of his blood was growing insane, ignited by what he had already donated. She was fine and tender. Sanguine they were not. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes.
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