“Come this way,” he said. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. His blood would be sweet with it. On a small shelf near the foot of the bed stood a couple of empty phials, a cracked ewer and basin, a brown jug without a handle, a small tin coffee-pot without a spout, a saucer of rouge, a fragment of looking-glass, and a flask, labelled "Rosa Solis.
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