Diane seemed more interested in the prestige of her violin skills than in the more sordid subject of her vampirism. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. “Are we interrupting anything?” “No!” Martin jumped slightly.
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