“An Oracle is a vampire, of course. ‘Unless he is himself a man of substance. He had conveyed it to her, not verbally, but by means of a letter, which seemed to her a singularly ignoble method of prohibition. Wood glanced at the hardy offender, and not liking the expression of his countenance, thought it advisable to postpone the execution of his threats to a more favourable opportunity. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. But what else he saw fit to teach her I do not care to stipulate. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. “Home, of course,” she answered.
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