The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. They are long gone. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. “I had to. ” Lucy embraced Michelle and pierced her neck with elongated canines, one hand clamped over Michelle’s biting, screaming mouth. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss.
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