When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. McClintock was in a gay mood at dinner that night; but he did not see fit to give these children the true reason. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. Horrid snorters! So long, Vee! Just suggested it.
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