“Want to see my fangs?” She asked. “Please play something for us,” Carol asked, her eyes aglow. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. ‘Certainly those are names of the most undistinguished, and I would scorn to have them.
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