Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person. Sebastian was physically beautiful, she reflected. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. She backed away, amazed as the thing buzzed loudly in the center of the room. Perhaps it was loneliness. ‘Eh bien, Eugénie. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank.
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