The ring's yours, and you're mine. Your husband could have told you that. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. It would be difficult to find another human being subjected to so many angles of attack as Spurlock. Celeste he knew. “Was that before or after you became a vampire?” Michelle questioned her casually, as if it were an interview. She felt he would tell people the way, control traffic, and refuse admission to public buildings with invincible correctness and the very finest explicit feelings possible. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them.
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