With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. “I’ve gotta go. ‘Eh bien, you are not like Leonardo. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud.
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